














' • • ' • * *• • - v i. • . .«&*•« .‘Jj! ' ;i 

• * 4 : 4 . *- • * • • ' t ««.'•. , ,/-> lt ',l ' 

.r*- • * , , 0 m , #l : 

: * « ■ * J ■ . »•■ . , ; ... ■ 













Class 




Boo k . /Y 1.3 /J3 . 

GoRyrigM’N? QL 

COPYRIGHT DEPOSm 










/ 


/ { a> 


Our Little Arabian Cousin 


THE 

Little Cousin Series 


(trade mark) 

Each volume illustrated with six or more full-page plates in 
tint. Cloth, i2mo, with decorative cover, 
per volume, 60 cents 


LIST OF TITLES 


By Mary Hazelton Wade 

(unless otherwise indicated) 

Our Little African Cousin Our Little Indian Cousin 


Our Little Alaskan Cousin 

By Mary F. Nixon -Roulet 

Our Little Arabian Cousin 

By Blanche McManus 

Our Little Armenian Cousin 
Our Little Brazilian Cousin 

By H. Lee M. Pike 

Our Little Brown Cousin 
Our Little Canadian Cousin 

By Elizabeth R. Macdonald 

Our Little Chinese Cousin 

By Isaac Taylor Headland 

Our Little Cuban Cousin 
Our Little Dutch Cousin 

By Blanche McManus 

Our Little English Cousin 

By Blanche McManus 

Our Little Eskimo Cousin 
Our Little French Cousin 

By Blanche McManus 

Our Little German Cousin 
Our Little Hawaiian Cousin 
Our Little Hindu Cousin 

By Blanche McManus 


Our Little Irish Cousin 
Our Little Italian Cousin 
Our Little Japanese Cousin 
Our Little Jewish Cousin 
Our Little Korean Cousin 

By H. Lee M. Pike 

Our Little Mexican Cousin 

By Edward C. Butler 

Our Little Norwegian Cousin 
Our Little Panama Cousin 

By H. Lee M. Pike 

Our Little Philippine Cousin 
Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 
Our Little Russian Cousin 
Our Little Scotch Cousin 

By Blanche McManus 

Our Little Siamese Cousin 
Our Little Spanish Cousin 

By Mary F. Nixon-Roulet 

Our Little Swedish Cousin 

By Claire M. Coburn 

Our Little Swiss Cousin 
Our Little Turkish Cousin 


(/« Preparation ) 

Our Little Australian Cousin 


L. C. PAGE 

New England Building, 


COMPANY 

Boston, Mass. 



























































































































































* 

-• I 














































































































































































































HAMID 


* . t 

| Our Little Arabian! 

| Cousin | 

^ *T 

* * 


< 3 * 

* 

* 

* 

•i* 

* 


B y 

Blanche McManus 

“ Author of “ Our Little English Cousin” “ Our 
Little French Cousin” “ Our Little Dutch 
Cousin” “ Our Little Scotch 
Cousin” etc. 


4 

4 

4 

* 

* 

4 


* 

* 

* 

* 

* 

* 

* 

* 

* 


Illustrated by 

The Author 



* 

* 

.* 

* 

* 


❖ 

* 

* 

* 


Boston 

L. C. Page &• Company 
iJ/Z) c c cc VI i 


* 

* 

4 


^ 4» 4» 4» 4» 4» 4» *|i 4* 4*4* 4* 4*44*14*14^ 


LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Cooies Received 

JUN 3 190f 


n Copyright Entry 

J4 v/ue 3,/<?i>7 

#LASS O- XXc., N0. 

| 


COPY B. 


Copyright , 7907 
By L. C. Page & Company 
(incorporated) 

All rights reserved 


First Impression, May, 1907 


COLONIAL PRESS 

E lectrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds &> Co , 
Boston, U. S. A. 


Preface 


Our little Arabian cousins live in a far-away 
land, where all the manners and customs of life 
are very different from our own. 

The little Arab children of the desert are 
quite different from those who live in the towns, 
as, indeed, are their elders. The Bedouins of 
the desert are by no means an uncivilized race, 
and their kind-heartedness and strict regard for 
doing by others as they would be done by is a 
marked feature of their daily life. 

This little book tells of the comings and go- 
ings of two little children of the desert; how 
they lived their lives; their plays and games; 
and many of the curious sights they saw as they 
travelled about with their parents, on one occa- 


VI 


Preface 


sion visiting the great city of Medina, where 
they were as much strangers as if they were 
little American cousins who had come there on 
a journey. 

Arabia itself is a wild, sad country, but with 
here and there great patches of verdure, date- 
palms, cocoanuts, and coffee plants which give 
prosperity to the inhabitants. Some of the 
tribes are warlike and less peaceful than others, 
but they are the outcasts of the country, the 
same as are found elsewhere than in Arabia. 

Our little Arabian cousins have much in com- 
mon with other little cousins, in that they are 
very strictly brought up, and are taught to have 
a great respect for their elders, and particularly 
to be polite and thoughtful to strangers. Their 
games and many of the acts of their daily lives 
are what we ourselves would consider violent 
and rough, but that only shapes them in their 
future careers to live up to their ancestral tra- 
ditions. B. M. 


Contents 


CHAPTER 

I. Rashid Comes to the Black Tents . 

II. Hamid and Rashid at Play 

III. The Robber Band and an Ostrich Hunt 

IV. Rashid Goes Home 

V. Hamid and Fatimah See the Great City 


PAGE 

I 

20 

40 

57 

73 














































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































if 
















List of Illustrations 


♦ 

Hamid 


PAGE 

Frontispieet 

A School in Modena . 

. 

% 

12 "" 

In the Black Tents . 

, • 

• . 

33 

In the “Shugduf” 

. 

. 

60 

“They scattered the grain 

ALL ABOUT THE 


COURTYARD ” . 

. 

. 

75 

The Caravan on the Road to 

Mecca 

. 

8o 


sAfap sSozving 9^ /aces 
TnenifionecC £n 


OUR LITTLE ARABIAN COUSIN 



Our Little Arabian Cousin 


CHAPTER I 

RASHID COMES TO THE BLACK TENTS 

‘‘They come, father, they come; I see a 
cloud of dust just over the hills,” cried young 
Hamid, galloping up on his fiery little pony to 
where his father sat proudly on his horse, with 
a number of the men of his tribe around him. 
Al-Abukar, Hamid’s father, was a grave, dig- 
nified Bedouin Arab, with a flowing beard and 
a long white cloak completely covering him. 
In his right hand he held a long lance or spear. 

“ Nay, nay,” said Al-Abukar, shading his 
eyes with his hand, as he looked out across the 


2 


Our Little Arabian Cousin 


desert, “ ’tis only the sand caught up in a swirl 
of the wind. Be not impatient, my son,” he 
continued, “ thou wilt tire both thyself and the 
little mare if thou dashest needlessly about, and 
neither of you will be able to greet thy little 
friend with the proper spirit.” 

Hamid and Zuleika, the little pony, both 
tossed their heads at the idea of such a thing; 
and no wonder! for Hamid belonged to the 
Beni-Harb, one of the best and bravest of the 
Bedouin tribes. As for Zuleika, she had come 
from the Nijd Desert, where the finest Arabian 
horses are bred, and it was said she was a de- 
scendant of the famous horse of Saladin, the 
great Arab ruler of olden times. 

The pony’s coat was rough and shaggy, and 
not smooth and glossy as we like to see; but 
Hamid could soon show you all her good points. 
The small head, with its thin pointed ears, wide 
nostrils, and large eyes, and the proud arch of 
her neck and the network of muscles on her 


Rashid Comes to Black Tents 3 

wiry legs all showed that she was an Arabian 
horse of the bluest blood. 

Hamid and his father had ridden out into 
the desert to meet little Rashid, a young friend 
of theirs who lived in the city of Medina. 
Rashid had been ill, and it was not easy to get 
well in the hot, narrow, ill-smelling streets of 
an Arabian city; so his father was bringing 
him to stay some months with Hamid, that he 
might live in a tent and breathe the dry, pure 
air of the desert, drink plenty of camel’s milk, 
and thus become well and strong. 

“ The People of the Walls,” as the Arabs 
of the desert call the folk who live in the towns, 
often send their children to live for awhile in 
the “ Black Tents ” in the desert, that they may 
grow up strong and healthy and become hardy 
and brave like the Bedouins themselves. The 
Bedouins, the real desert Arabs, are among the 
bravest and most courageous people in all the 
world. The “ Black Tents,” the habitations of 


4 Our Little Arabian Cousin 

the Bedouins, are so called because they are 
made of a material very sombre and dark in 
colour. 

“ Could we not ride farther out to meet our 
friends?” asked Hamid, for both he and Zu- 
leika were becoming more and more restless. 

“ I fear we should miss them, for I know 
not whether they will come over the ridge or 
by the road up the valley,” said his father. 

Just at this moment one of the Bedouins 
called out: “ Do I not see the dust from the 
camels’ feet over yonder?” 

“ Ah, it is truly they; haste and we will give 
them welcome.” So saying, Al-Abukar spurred 
his horse forward, and Hamid and his pony 
were not far behind. Together they flew like 
the wind over the sand and rocks. 

As they came in sight of their friends, they 
shouted out their names, at the same time 
throwing their lances into the air and catching 


Rashid Comes to Black Tents 5 

them again, and firing off their guns in real 
circus fashion. 

You would think that all this would frighten 
one’s friends to death, but this is only the polite 
Bedouin way of welcoming any one. 

The camels of the caravan which was bring- 
ing the people from Medina came to a halt and 
everybody dismounted, and loud and warm 
were the greetings between friends. 

Hamid and Rashid clapped the palms of their 
right hands together, and then touched fore- 
heads and put their arms around each other’s 
necks. This is the real Arab form of greeting 
a friend. They are more affectionate than any 
of the other Eastern nations, and show their joy 
and happiness with much emotion when meeting 
friends or relatives. 

All now formed one group and rode along 
together until they came in sight of a grove of 
palm-trees in the midst of which was Hamid’s 
home, a great brown tent made of cloth of 


6 


Our Little Arabian Cousin 


camel’s hair, and held to the ground by ropes 
tightly pegged down so that the strong winds 
of the desert might not overturn it. All around 
were the tents of other Bedouins, relatives and 
friends of Al-Abukar, belonging to the same 
tribe. 

As our party reached the tents, the men and 
children left behind came forward to welcome 
them with shouts and more gun-firing. 

“ Prepare the guest-rice at once,” called out 
Al-Abukar, as he pulled aside the curtains of 
the tent for his friends to enter. Here was 
Zubaydah, Hamid’s mother, ready to welcome 
them, and she had the black servant bring a 
large bowl of water so that they could wash 
off the dust of travel. 

After this all sat around on rugs, and Rashid 
was made to lie down on a pile of cushions, 
for he was very tired after his long journey. 
Fatimah, Hamid’s little sister, now brought the 
guests rose-water with which to bathe their fin- 


Rashid Comes to Black Tents 7 

gers and faces once more, and bowls of water, 
sweetened with the juice of pomegranates, to 
drink. 

“ In the name of Allah, the Merciful ! ” ex- 
claimed every one, as each took a drink from 
the bowl; and, after they had finished, “ Praise 
be to Allah!” 

“ Pleasure and health to thee,” said Al- 
Abukar, politely, as he put his great hubble- 
bubble pipe before his friend, first taking a puff 
at it himself. 

Meanwhile Hamid was busy pounding coffee, 
which had been freshly roasted, into a powder, 
with a mortar and pestle. This is always the 
occupation of the oldest son when guests are 
about, the father taking it upon himself to make 
the coffee afterwards. The Arabs are great 
coffee-drinkers, and it is from Arabia that the 
finest mocha comes. It gets its name from a 
town in the southern part of Arabia. 

Al-Abukar made the coffee in a great brass 


8 


Our Little Arabian Cousin 


urn, mixing the ground coffee with sweet-smell- 
ing herbs. As soon as it was ready for drink- 
ing, he himself took the first cup, after which 
tiny brass cups were filled and passed around to 
the guests. He did not fill the cups quite full; 
for that, for some reason, would be a great 
insult to his guests. Moreover, the cups were 
so tiny that they held hardly more than the cups 
of a doll’s tea-service would hold. Each emp- 
tied his cup twice of the delicious coffee with- 
out milk or sugar; but not for anything would 
Al-Abukar have offered them a third, for that 
would be deemed a hint that he wished his 
guests to leave. 

Now all the relatives and friends from the 
other tents came in to call, and sat around smok- 
ing and drinking still more coffee, and listening 
to the gossip of the city and country. 

The Bedouins are very hospitable, look upon 
a guest and his rights as sacred, and are ever 
ready to avenge a wrong against him. A 


Rashid Comes to Black Tents 9 

Bedouin will entertain any one who calls at his 
tent; and, while you are his guest, you will be 
protected to the utmost power of your host, and 
treated quite as one of the family. At the 
same time a stranger is only expected to stay 
three days; but, when he leaves, his host sim- 
ply passes him on to another friend or relative, 
where he may stay another three days. He is 
welcomed thus by as many of the tribe as he 
wishes to visit. All very delightful this, you 
will think; and, if you ever wish to visit your 
little Arabian cousins, you will always be sure 
of a warm welcome. 

A Bedouin will never harm any one after he 
has once eaten with him. They call this “ eat- 
ing salt ” together; and there are some tribes 
that expect every stranger they come across to 
eat with them in order that eternal peace may 
be assured. 

Just now there was a smell of good cooking 
coming from that part of the tent which was 


IO 


Our Little Arabian Cousin 


curtained off for the women, and where Zubay- 
dah and the black servants were making all 
sorts of dishes for the visitors. One of the 
servants having ground the wheat for the bread 
between two great stones, it was mixed with 
milk and bean flour and made into round, flat, 
thin cakes. Then it was baked in a queer kind 
of an oven shaped like a big jar with a wide 
mouth. 

Besides these hot cakes, there was to be the 
“ guest-rice,” all swimming in melted butter. 
There was goat’s meat, too, of which the Arabs 
are very fond; but which we would think a 
little strong to eat often. Curds made of cam- 
el’s milk were a special feature, and many kinds 
of soft white cheeses, as well as dates, grapes, 
and pomegranates. 

All these things were put on a great brass 
tray, which was placed on a low table in the 
centre of the tent. Every one sat closely around 
the table, and all said “ Bis millali” before eat- 


Rashid Comes to Black Tents 1 1 


ing, which is the Mohammedan way of saying 
grace. 

Al-Abukar helped himself first ; and then put 
a choice bit into his friend’s mouth. Then 
every one began to dip into the dishes with their 
fingers, because there were no knives or forks 
or separate plates. They all ate with a good 
appetite, for there is nothing like the desert air 
to give one a good appetite. 

Zubaydah waited on the guests herself, and 
afterwards ate with the children, who meantime 
had been simply looking on. 

After the meal was over, they all sat around 
in a cool corner of the tent, the men smoking 
their great pipes again. Hamid could not keep 
his eyes off the beautiful sword and the brace 
of fine pistols with their red cords, which be- 
longed to his father’s friend. They were the 
most beautiful things he had ever seen, he 
thought. 

Hamid had not a bit of the shyness which 


12 


Our Little Arabian Cousin 


Eastern children usually have, for the Arab 
children are taught from their earliest days al- 
ways to be independent; and their elders talk 
with them and encourage them to ask questions. 
This is a part of their education. 

So Hamid was told all about Medina and 
the doings of the great city; and his father’s 
friend took off his great sword that Hamid 
might fasten it at his own waist. 

“ Some day I shall have a sword just like 
that,” said Hamid, as he handed it back, after 
having marched around the tent with it drag- 
ging on the ground behind him. Rashid lay 
on the soft cushions and laughed, still too tired 
to get up and rush about as Hamid was doing. 

Rashid’s father, the Sharif, had brought a 
gift of a beautiful chased dagger of Damascus 
steel for Al-Abukar. 

“ It is indeed a beautiful weapon,” said 
Hamid’s father, feeling its polished blade with 
careful fingers. No gift could possibly please 



A SCHOOL IN MODENA 











































































































Rashid Comes to Black Tents 13 

an Arab more than a good weapon, and he 
thanked his friend from the city again and 
again. 

“ Here is also a toy from the bazaar that 
I have brought thy son,” said the Sharif. 
“ See,” he continued, “ it is a toy camel with 
a strange device inside its body by which it 
moves its head and legs. ’Tis one of those 
strange mechanical toys that are the work of 
infidels in a foreign land, but all the same none 
the less wonderful for that.” (The Moham- 
medans call all the people of other faiths in- 
fidels.) 

“ Nay, one needs no toys from the town,” 
said Hamid, proudly. “ We play with live 
camels and horses and chase the wild beasts 
across the desert.” 

We would think it very rude indeed of a 
little boy to speak thus; but instead of scolding 
Hamid, they praised him; and the Sharif said, 
smilingly, “ Truly thou art one of the ‘ sons of 


14 Our Little Arabian Cousin 

fight.’ ” That is what the word Beni-Harb, the 
name of their tribe, means in the Arabic lan- 
guage. 

This is the true Arab spirit; and children are 
taught to scorn childish things so that they may 
the sooner become hardy and brave in any kind 
of danger. It is really very funny to see the 
little boys act and talk as if they were already 
grown men like their fathers; and they would 
much rather play with swords and pistols any 
day than with toys. 

“ Indeed thou art a little fighting hawk. 
May Allah grant that the sweet wind of the 
desert put strength into the limbs of my son,” 
continued Al-Abukar’s guest, looking sorrow- 
fully at little Rashid’s pale cheeks as he lay on 
his cushions. 

“ He is a little better already,” said Zubay- 
dah, kindly, as she gave little Fatimah a censer 
of burning musk to swing before her guests, that 


Rashid Comes to Black Tents 15 

they might enjoy the smell of sweet perfumes 
after the meal. 

“ I will show you my falcons if you are not 
too tired,” said Hamid, anxious to amuse his 
little friend. 

“ Oh, indeed I am not tired. Where are 
they?” cried Rashid, jumping up and forget- 
ting all about his long ride. 

Hamid led his little guest out among the 
great palm-trees and past a great many tents 
to a sort of mud hut thatched with palm 
leaves. 

“ How are the birds to-day? ” asked Hamid 
of a man who was sitting in front of the hut, 
while two fine greyhounds lay beside him. u I 
have brought a little friend with me who will 
hunt with the falcons some day.” 

“ May it be soon,” said the thin, wiry Bed- 
ouin, rising and drawing the curtain of the 
hut. “ The old ones are impatient to be flung 


1 6 Our Little Arabian Cousin 

to the wind, and I would teach the young ones 
something more.” 

This man was Awad, the old falconer, the 
man who trains falcons, who was only too proud 
to show off his household of fine birds. These 
hawk-like birds, called falcons, are great hunt- 
ers of small game; and can be trained to hunt 
for their masters, just as one can train a dog. 
The falcon drops down on its prey from above, 
in a swift, straight line, and buries its sharp 
claws in its back, often killing it before its mas- 
ter comes up. 

Hamid showed Rashid how he could make 
his two handsome falcons come and sit on his 
wrist and obey him. He could throw them off 
into the air, and they would come back to him 
when he whistled. 

“ Some day when thou art stronger, we will 
go out with the falcons,” said Hamid, as he put 
the birds back on their perch. 

When they left the hut, they saw Fatimah 


Rashid Comes to Black Tents 17 

running toward them, a dear little gazelle 
bounding along by her side. 

“Isn’t she beautiful?” said Fatimah, as 
Rashid stroked the gazelle’s dainty head. “ I 
think falcons are cruel because they chase these 
pretty creatures. My little pet was caught by 
the falcons ; and, when father brought her 
home, I begged him to give her to me for a 
playmate. Now, more than ever, I do not like 
to have the falcons chase these dear, gentle 
little animals.” Then she put her arms around 
the gazelle’s neck and hugged it. 

When the children went back to the tent, 
they found that the older folk had had their 
siesta, or midday sleep, and were now sitting 
in front of the tent. 

Zubaydah had the supper-tray brought out to 
the children; and, when they had again eaten, 
while the men were sitting around smoking 
their perfumed water-pipes, the full moon came 
up over the ridge and made it almost as light 


1 8 Our Little Arabian Cousin 


as day; for the moonlight of the desert seems 
brighter than moonlight anywhere else because 
the air is so clear. 

Now they all began to tell stories and recite 
poetry, of which the Arabs are very fond. The 
Arab loves to hear and to tell stories about the 
great deeds of their people in the past, and to 
recite beautiful poems in praise of the glories 
of many years ago. 

Finally Fatimah brought out her lute, a queer 
little instrument with only one string, which 
did not make much music. But the song 
was very pretty, and Fatimah sang it very 
sweetly : 

“ Oh, take these purple robes away. 

Give back my cloak of camel’s hair. 

And bear me from this tow’ring pile 

To where the ‘ Black Tents ’ flap the air. 

t€ The camel’s colt with fait’ ring tread. 

The dog that bays at all but me. 

Delight me more than ambling mules — 

Than every art of minstrelsy.” 


Rashid Comes to Black Tents 19 

After the song, Rashid and Hamid rolled 
themselves up in warm blankets in a corner of 
the big tent and were soon asleep. So ended 
Rashid’s first day in the “ Black Tents.” 


CHAPTER II 

HAMID AND RASHID AT PLAY 

When little Rashid woke up the next morn- 
ing, he rubbed his eyes and for a moment won- 
dered if he was dreaming. It seemed so strange 
to find himself lying in the corner of the big 
tent instead of in his own room, with his pet 
doves cooing at his window. 

But instead of doves, what he heard was the 
neighing and stamping of horses, and the calls 
of the men driving the camels out to pasture. 
As he turned his head, he found Hamid’s 
mother standing beside him with a bowl in her 
hand. 

“ Here is warm milk from the camel,” she 
said, with a smile, “ to make thee well and red- 
den thy cheeks. Hasten to drink it while it is 


20 


Hamid and Rashid at Play 2 1 

warm. There is water in yonder basin with 
which to wash,” she added. 

Rashid was up in a minute, and dashed the 
water over his face and hands. Then he made 
his prayer like a good little Mohammedan that 
he was, for he must do this before eating. 

“ I never tasted anything nicer than that,” 
said he, as he finished his bowl of milk. 

“ ’Tis good for thee to be hungry, for it 
means that thou art already better,” said little 
Fatimah, wisely, giving him a piece of the cake 
which had been baked the night before. She 
had brought in her bowl to keep him company 
at his breakfast. 

“Where is Hamid?” asked Rashid, looking 
around for his little friend. 

“ He has been in and out many times; but 
I would not let him waken you,” said Zubay- 
dah. 

“ He is full of a secret that he will not tell 
me,” spoke up Fatimah, in rather a hurt voice. 


22 


Our Little Arabian Cousin 


Just then Hamid poked his head in behind 
the curtain of the tent in a great state of excite- 
ment. 

“ Come, Rashid,” he said, “ and tell me 
what thou findest here.” 

Rashid ran at once out from the tent, and 
there stood a fine little blooded Arabian horse, 
all saddled and bridled. 

“ Oh, what a beautiful little horse ! ” ex- 
claimed Rashid. 

“ She only waits for her master,” said a voice 
behind him, and he turned to find Al-Abukar 
smiling gravely. 

“ The horse is thine,” he said. “ She will 
also help to bring strength to thy limbs, and 
will carry thee like the wind across the plains 
and hills.” 

Little Rashid was so astonished and happy 
that he could not find words with which to 
thank his kind friend for his gift, but he kissed 
his hand and stammered out something. Then 


Hamid and Rashid at Play 23 

he threw his arms about the pony’s arched neck 
and patted her delicate little nose. Oh, how 
beautiful he thought the handsome red saddle 
and bridle, with their silver buckles and red 
tassels! There is no gift that pleases a little 
Arab boy so much as a fine pony. 

“ Is she not a queen? ” said Hamid, who was 
as much pleased as his little friend. “ I rode 
with father to the tents of the great Sheik, 
where one finds the best and swiftest horses; 
and I helped to pick her out from dozens of 
other ponies. She belongs to one of the five 
great families, does she not, father?” 

Hamid, like all little Arab boys, had been 
taught to love horses, and to know the history 
of the great breeds of Arabia as well as he did 
that of his own tribe. 

“Oh, she knows me already!” exclaimed 
Rashid, with delight, as the pony rubbed her 
little nose against his arm. 


24 Our Little Arabian Cousin 

“ She looks lovely and haughty, like a little 
Sultanah,” he continued. 

“ What shall you call her? ” asked Fatimah, 
who was giving the pony a bit of her cake to 
nibble. 

“ I will call her ‘ Sultanah,’ ” said Rashid, 
as he clapped his hands ; and everybody agreed 
that the little horse could not have a better 
name. 

<u Now you must feed her, Rashid, so that 
she will know that she belongs to you,” said 
Hamid. “ I will get some of the date bread.” 
He ran back quickly into the tent, and was back 
again in a moment with a brown, sticky mass 
in his hand, a kind of paste made of dried dates. 
This Rashid fed to Sultanah, who seemed to 
enjoy it very much. 

“You must sometimes feed her meat, too; 
that will make her strong and swift,” added 
Hamid, who was proud indeed to be able to 
show that he knew all about Arabian ponies. 


Hamid and Rashid at Play 25 

“ Our cousin who lives near the sea gives his 
horses dried fish to eat,” said Rashid. 

“ That may be well enough for some horses,” 
replied Hamid, “ but I give Zuleika dates and 
milk and cakes. She eats what her master does. 
Do you not, my beauty?” he said, stroking 
Zuleika, who had just strolled up to make 
friends with the newcomer. 

Nothing would do but that Rashid must have 
a ride at once ; so Hamid saddled his pony, too, 
and away went the two boys cantering swift and 
sure in the morning sunlight. 

“ We will pass by the madressah, and let the 
boys see how fine we are,” said Hamid. 

The madressah was a low shed made of 
palm-branches where the little Bedouin boys 
and girls went to school ; for even in the desert 
the children must study their lessons. 

When Hamid and Rashid rode up, a number 
of children were sitting around on the ground, 
singing out their recitations at the top of their 


26 Our Little Arabian Cousin 

voices, while the school-mistress sat outside 
sewing. 

But they forgot all about their lessons when 
they spied the new boy, and ran out to greet 
Rashid and ask him all sorts of questions; and 
they patted and praised Sultanah and picked 
out her good points in a very knowing way. 

“ Oh, thou truant ! ” said the school-mis- 
tress to Hamid, “ why art thou not at thy les- 
sons? Always thou hast thy head filled with 
other things than thy books.” 

“Nay, teacher, be not cross; to-morrow we 
will both come; and you will see that I shall 
bring you a new pupil,” said Hamid, as he and 
Rashid rode away. 

“ Here is the place where the ponies are 
kept,” said Hamid, riding up to one side of 
their tent. The boys jumped off their horses 
and began to unsaddle. 

“We will fasten Sultanah, for she is strange 
yet to her new home,” said Hamid, tying the 


Hamid and Rashid at Play 27 

pony’s halter to one of the tent ropes. “ But 
Zuleika would never wander from this spot 
where I place her until I bid her. She will 
never let any one touch her but me; and, if a 
stranger tried to mount her, he would soon find 
himself lying in the dust. 

“ Zuleika does everything but talk,” Hamid 
went on, for he loved his horse as if she were 
one of the family. “ Sometimes, when the 
nights are cold, she will come around to the 
tent curtain and put her head inside and neigh, 
and then I let her come inside and stand by 
the fire.” 

“ Now we will make ‘ kayf’ for awhile; for 
thou hast rushed about enough for one hot 
morning,” said Hamid, throwing his saddle in 
one corner of the big tent. 

Making “ kayf ” is just a little Arab boy’s 
way of having a good time doing nothing at 
all but lying on a rug in a cool corner of a tent, 
or sitting in the shade of a palm-tree. 


28 Our Little Arabian Cousin 

Rashid was not sorry to rest after the ex- 
citement of the morning, so he curled up on one 
of the mats and was fast asleep in a minute. 

“ Thou hast promised to show me the young 
camels,” whispered Rashid when Hamid had 
finished pounding the coffee after the midday 
meal. 

“ Come now, then,” said Hamid. “ Nassar- 
Ben and his men guard the camel-colts down 
by the stream.” 

The two boys went in and out among the 
brown tents, jumping over the tent ropes rather 
than taking the trouble to go around, until they 
found the big herd of camels with a number 
of baby camels. They were in the river valley, 
where there was a good crop of coarse, high 
grass called camel-grass, because it is so coarse 
that nothing but a camel could eat it. 

It was a great herd of camels, some of them 
eating of the grass and others lying down in 


Hamid and Rashid at Play 29 

the shade; and all around were frisking num- 
bers of little baby camels. 

Hamid’s father was a Sheik, or captain of 
a tribe of Bedouins, the real desert tribes of 
Arabs, who live only in tents in an oasis of the 
desert. 

They had pitched their tents in this partic- 
ular spot because of its being a very suitable 
one in which to pasture their camels. The sole 
wealth of a Bedouin is his flocks and herds and 
his horse and his firearms; and, of course, his 
tent and his few simple belongings. 

Some of the Sheiks raise horses, others sheep, 
and others camels. The people of Hamid’s 
tribe lived by raising and selling camels to their 
neighbours who did not raise them, or to the 
merchants in the cities and towns. 

“ Don’t baby camels look as if they would 
break in two?” said Rashid, as they came up 
to a group of young camels, “ their legs are 
so long and thin.” 


30 Our Little Arabian Cousin 

“ Father is going to take some of the colts 
to sell to the great Sheik who has the fine 
horses. Perhaps he will let us go with him,” 
said Hamid. “ I heard Nassar-Ben tell him 
last night that the young camels were now 
strong enough for the journey. 

“ Nassar-Ben is our camel-sheik; and he and 
his men guard the herd. There he sits in the 
shadow of the tent, and those are his children 
scrambling around and playing on that old 
camel’s back,” continued Hamid, bound that 
his little friend should know all about every- 
thing. 

“Wait, oh, babies! I can mount quicker 
than that,” shouted Hamid to Nassar-Ben’s 
children, who were amusing themselves climb- 
ing over the back of one of the old camels. 

“ Look! This is the way to mount a camel,” 
said Hamid, as he climbed up one of the legs 
of a big camel as if it were a tree-trunk; and, 
finally, throwing his leg over the beast’s neck, 


Hamid and Rashid at Play 31 

he was soon perched on the hump in the middle 
of the camel’s back. 

“ Come up, come up, that’s the stairway!” 
he called to Rashid. 

“ Oh, I daren’t,” cried poor little Rashid, 
slipping back as he tried to hold on to the cam- 
el’s rusty knee. 

“ You will learn in time, my little master,” 
said Nassar-Ben, lifting him up beside Hamid. 
Then all the other little children swarmed up 
the old camel’s legs; and, when the camel man 
gave her a blow with a stick, away she went, 
the children laughing and holding on to each 
other to keep from slipping off. Suddenly the 
old camel wheeled around and started back at 
a gallop. Little Rashid had ridden on a camel 
before, but never on a bare-back camel in that 
fashion. The first thing he knew he was lying 
in the dust, together with one of the little 
Bedouin boys, whom he had pulled off with 
him as he fell. 


32 Our Little Arabian Cousin 

“ Oh! ” said the little boy, half-crying, “ you 
made me fall off on purpose ! ” He felt so 
badly that he, one of the boys of the camel- 
sheik, should have been seen to fall from a 
camel that he began to thump Rashid as hard 
as he could. 

“Fie! for shame!” cried Hamid, rushing 
up to them as he jumped down from the camel. 
“ Is this the way to treat a stranger and a guest 
in our tents? ” 

The little boy stopped at once and hung his 
head, looking very much ashamed ; for he knew 
how wrong it was to be rude to a guest. 

“ This greenhorn from the town made me 
fall, and they jeered at me,” he said, sulkily. 

“ Nay, but I did not mean to pull you off,” 
said Rashid; “ thou must blame the steep hump 
of the camel.” He looked so sorry that the 
little fellow stopped frowning at once. They 
made friends again, and all ran back for an- 
other ride on the camel, while Rashid made up 



IN THE BLACK TENTS 






Hamid and Rashid at Play 33 

his mind that he would learn to climb and 
mount a camel all by himself. 

After a few days, Rashid’s father had to 
go home, and Rashid had quite a lump in his 
throat as he sat on Sultanah one morning and 
watched his father’s little caravan pass out of 
sight over the ridge. He would not have cried 
for anything, however; and, when he thought 
of his good friends here in the “ Black Tents ” 
and his little pony and the good times he was 
to have, he felt better. 

What with drinking camel’s milk and gallop- 
ing over the plain on Sultanah’s back, Rashid 
soon began to grow strong and well. His little 
white face changed to a healthy brown col- 
our. 

Rashid and Hamid helped the falconer look 
after his birds, and Awad, their keeper, showed 
them how to train a falcon oneself. 

One day as the boys were sitting under the 
shadow of a group of big palm-trees playing a 


34 Our Little Arabian Cousin 

sort of “ jack-straw ” game with date seeds for 
stones, Rashid suddenly exclaimed: “What 
can that be?” A sudden flash of light had 
made his eyes blink, and straightway there was 
another. “Who is playing tricks?” said 
Hamid, looking around. Then they heard a 
low laugh, and there was Fatimah behind a 
tree, holding a little looking-glass in her hand 
so that it would flash a ray of sunlight right 
in the boys’ eyes. 

“ Oh, you monkey! Where did you get that 
glass, and who is this stranger?” asked Ha- 
mid; for he had just spied another little girl’s 
head peeping over Fatimah’s shoulder. 

“ There is a merchant at the great tent. He 
is Hajj and this is his little granddaughter; 
and, oh! he has such beautiful things to sell, 
mirrors like this and silks and jewelry and — 
but you should see them yourselves ! ” said 
Fatimah without stopping for breath. 

Hamid did not need to be told the second 


Hamid and Rashid at Play 35 

time. It was a great event in the lives of the 
desert children whenever a travelling merchant 
came; for this was the only chance they ever 
had to buy anything whatever known to the 
town dwellers. 

The children found the old merchant open- 
ing up his saddle-bags and spreading his wares 
on a rug in front of the tent, while everybody 
crowded around to look at the velvet purses, 
the silk veils, and trinkets of all kinds as 
well as weapons and firearms which he dis- 
played. 

What caught Hamid’s eyes first were the 
long pistols with funny curved handles set with 
mother-of-pearl and silver. 

“Oh, father!” he said, “thou hast prom- 
ised me a new pistol! You remember; it was 
when I shot to the centre of the mark a month 
ago.” 

“Ah, thou hast a good memory; but thy 


36 Our Little Arabian Cousin 

mother wants a silken veil and Fatimah some 
gewgaws,” said old Al-Abukar. 

“ Here is a fine pistol which will just suit 
the little Sheik,” said the old merchant, taking 
from his own belt a fine weapon, all set with 
pearl and silver. “ This was made for the son 
of a great prince; but it came to me in the 
course of trade and it is a gift that will make 
the boy glad.” 

“ Oh, father! What a beautiful weapon! 
It will be a long time before one sees such an- 
other,” exclaimed Hamid, as he handled the 
weapon lovingly. 

“ Ah, well,” said his father, “ a promise Is 
a promise; and one might as well spend the 
money now as at another time.” Then he 
began to unroll the long sash around his waist, 
so that he could get at his leather belt in which 
he kept his money. 

Wasn’t Hamid a proud boy when he stuck 
the pistol in his sash and strolled up and down 


Hamid and Rashid at Play 37 

in front of the other boys. They were all envi- 
ous, too, in a proper way; for it was not 
every one who could carry a pistol made for 
a prince. 

“ Now let us see what thy new pistol will 
do,” said Al-Abukar, taking a coin from his 
pouch, and, through a hole in it, attaching a 
string and suspending it from the end of a pole 
which projected from one side of the tent. He 
paced backwards a short distance, and told 
Hamid to stand on that spot and shoot at the 
string which held the coin and try to cut it with 
the bullet from his pistol. 

“ Oh, father, thou hast given me a hard 
task,” said Hamid, as he took his place and 
began to load his pistol. 

“ So much the more honour to you if you 
do it well, then,” replied his father. “ Aim 
carefully and not too high,” he continued. 

Hamid shot at the coin several times, but 
with no luck. 


* 


38 Our Little Arabian Cousin 

“ Let Rashid try his skill,” said Al-Abukar. 

Rashid’s hand shook as he took aim, and his 
first shot went wild; but his second just grazed 
the coin and sent it swinging to and fro like 
a pendulum. 

“Well done! oh, son of the city!” cried 
out the children from the other tents, who had 
crowded around to watch the shooting. 

Their praise pleased Rashid, for he had 
practised hard with Hamid at shooting at a 
mark since he had been in the desert. 

“ I will do it this time,” said Hamid, as he 
set his teeth. Again, however, he only sent 
the dust flying about an astonished camel, who 
just at that moment poked his inquisitive nose 
out from behind the tent. 

“ Enough powder and shot has been wasted 
for one day,” said Al-Abukar, raising his pistol; 
“ we will take the coin down.” Then, firing 
at the cord with a sure and steady aim, he cut 
it as if with a knife. 


Hamid and Rashid at Play 39 

“ It is not the fault of the new pistol,” said 
Al-Abukar, smiling at Hamid, who looked very 
disappointed. “ Never mind, thou wilt succeed 
better another time,” he added. 


CHAPTER III 

THE ROBBER BAND AND AN OSTRICH HUNT 

Meantime Fatimah was making friends 
with Nawara, the old merchant’s little grand- 
daughter. She was a wild, shy little girl, wear- 
ing a dark blue cotton dress, a mass of tangled 
black hair hanging down on her shoulders. The 
hot sun and the wind had burnt her face almost 
black. She was telling Fatimah of her long 
journeys with her grandfather. 

“ Thou art a great traveller,” said Fatimah, 
looking at the little girl in round-eyed wonder. 

“ Yes, my father and mother are dead,” she 
said, “ and, as I have no little brothers or sis- 
ters, I go always with grandfather. He makes 
a nice seat for me on top of the big bales of 


40 


The Robber Band 


41 

goods on the camel’s back, or he holds me be- 
fore him on his dromedary.” 

“And art thou never afraid?” asked Fati- 
mah. 

“ Oh, no ! Sometimes, though, at night, 
when I hear the jackals howling near our tent, 
I pull the rug up over my head. But when we 
come to the ‘ Black Tents ’ every one is so kind. 
I find many little playmates; and often they 
want me to stay with them. Grandfather 
would miss me sadly if I did,” said Nawara, 
with an important air. “ When we halt I 
always gather the dry thorns and make the 
fire, and melt the milk balls to make a cool 
drink while the cakes are cooking,” she went 
on. 

“ Thou art indeed quite a little woman,” 
said Fatimah’s mother, smiling at the little 
girl’s talk. 

“ ’Tis good to be here,” said the merchant, 
after his other customers had gone and the fam- 


42 Our Little Arabian Cousin 

ily had gathered for the evening meal in front 
of the tent. “ We came a long, weary way 
to-day. I feared to stop by the road, for there 
was talk of robbers hiding in the hills, and a 
party of travellers had been attacked by them 
a few days ago.” 

“ Perhaps we will see them to-morrow, 
father, and then I will have a chance to use 
my new pistol,” spoke up Hamid, eagerly. 

“ The rascals give no one a chance to see 
them. They keep themselves safely hid behind 
the rocks, and fire upon the peaceful traveller 
before he is aware that they are there,” the 
merchant replied. 

“ It is their way,” said Al-Abukar. “ I 
would not hasten thy going,” he continued; 
“ but if thou wilt join our party we will ride 
together as far as the tents of our friends. It 
will be safer for thee and the little one as well 
as thy goods,” said the Sheik. 

So it was arranged that the old merchant 


The Robber Band 


43 

and Nawara should start out with them the 
next day. 

Hamid and Rashid lay awake half the night, 
planning what they would do if they met the 
robbers; and they were up and had saddled 
their horses while it was yet starlight, so as to 
get a good start before the heat of the day 
came down upon them. 

The camel men were ready with the camels 
tied together in a long line, one behind the 
other, so that they might not stray apart. 

The old merchant seated himself cross-legged 
on his dromedary, which is much like a camel 
except that it is swifter and has two humps 
on its back instead of one. 

“ Thou hast been very kind,” said little Na- 
wara, putting her arms around Fatimah and 
kissing her as they were leaving. 

“ Thou wilt come again some day, perhaps,” 
said Zubaydah, the mother. “ Meantime here 
is something to keep thee from having to cook 


44 Our Little Arabian Cousin 

the midday meal,” she said, as she stuffed some 
fresh dates and cakes into the food-bags. 

Now the men started the camels, Al-Abukar 
and the boys swung themselves into their sad- 
dles, and away they galloped. 

Hamid looked very fine indeed, for a little 
Bedouin boy likes to look at his best when he 
is making his first visit. He had put on his 
long white cloak of camel’s-hair cloth, and 
thrown over his white cap a silk cloth like a 
large handkerchief with long red tassels at the 
corners. This was held on by a cord of brown 
wool wound round and round his head. In the 
broad silken sash at his waist was stuck a small 
dagger with a curved blade and of course the 
new pistol, and his jacket was embroidered with 
a silver thread. 

Rashid, too, was dressed in Bedouin style; 
and each of the boys carried a spear, while they 
had polished as brightly as possible the silver 
buckles and ornaments on their bridles and sad- 


The Robber Band 


45 


dies. To the boys’ great disappointment noth- 
ing happened and they reached the tents of 
their friends safely enough. Here they spent 
three happy days. 

While Al-Abukar and his friend the Sheik 
bargained over the prices of the colts, Hamid 
and Rashid played with the children of the 
encampment, riding races on horseback and 
having a good time generally. Indeed they 
were sorry when they came to say good-bye, 
and turned their horses’ heads homewards. 

“ I don’t believe there are any robbers, after 
all,” said Rashid to Hamid, as they were rid- 
ing back together a little ahead of the party. 

“ They are only men from the mountains, 
anyway,” said Hamid, with a toss of his head, 
a Bedouin’s way of saying he didn’t think much 
of their bravery. 

“ Some of them are courageous enough,” 
said one of the camel men who had just come 
up behind them; “ and this is just the sort of 


46 Our Little Arabian Cousin 

a place they would choose to lurk in,” he con- 
tinued, looking carefully about him as they 
entered a ravine between the hills. 

Just as the camel man had finished speaking, 
Hamid looked up and saw a curl of white 
smoke coming out from behind a rock on the 
hillside above them. 

“ Down ! ” cried Hamid, pushing Rashid 
forward on his pony’s neck and at the same 
time throwing himself flat on Zuleika’s neck 
just as a bullet went whizzing over their heads. 

“ ’Tis they! the rascals! They are skulking 
behind the rocks, and will not come out and 
fight in the open like brave men,” cried Al- 
Abukar, galloping up furiously and sending a 
shot back in the direction from which they had 
been attacked. 

“ Give your horses their rein, boys, and ride 
on as fast as ever you can. These worthless 
fellows will have no horses that can overtake 
yours. I will teach the brigands what it means 


The Robber Band 


47 


to fire on a Bedouin chief.” So saying, Al- 
Abukar dashed straight up the rocky side of the 
ravine. 

“ I will not flee ! I will follow you, father ! ” 
cried Hamid, spurring Zuleika on close behind 
his father’s horse. Rashid followed, not know- 
ing what might happen, but determined to stay 
by Hamid at any cost. 

The horses needed no spur, for the sound of 
the shot had made them wild, and they bounded 
up the steep rocky trail like gazelles. 

The band of robbers were so taken aback at 
this sudden return of their attack that they fled 
without a parting shot, but not before Al-Abu- 
kar had captured their chief. 

“ Aha ! Thy beard is now in my grasp,” 
said Al-Abukar to the robber chief, as he and 
his men fastened their prisoner on the back of 
one of the camels. 

“ Thou didst not think any one could reach 
thee on that steep mountainside, but thou didst 


48 Our Little Arabian Cousin 

not reckon on the mettle of the horses of our 
tribe.” 

“ Look you,” said the camel man, as he rode 
up alongside the boys again, “ it was a good 
thing that you sheltered yourselves behind your 
horses’ necks. Here, Rashid, is the hole of the 
bullet right through this head-kerchief of yours, 
and if you had not pulled your little friend 
down on to his horse’s neck as you were riding 
beside him, Hamid, the bullet would certainly 
have gone straight through his head.” 

“ Oh, Hamid, you have saved my life,” said 
Rashid, turning pale for the first time. He had 
been too much excited before to be frightened. 

“ He only did his duty to his friend,” Al- 
Abukar replied, gravely; but Hamid saw by 
his look that he was proud of his son. He sat 
up a little straighter in his saddle and felt that 
he had grown at least a couple of inches taller 
during the morning. 

“ Thou hast disobeyed me, child, but I can- 


The Robber Band 


49 


not scold thee,” continued his father; “ for you 
and Rashid both followed me like brave little 
sons of the desert.” 

“ But, father ! ” said Hamid, clutching at 
Zuleika’s rein, suddenly, “ I forgot all about 
firing my new pistol ! ” At this they all laughed 
heartily. 

“ Never mind,” said his father; “ I am sorry 
to say there are still many robbers left, and that 
you may yet have a chance to use it.” 

When they rode up to the tents with their 
prisoner, the robber chief, every one hurrahed; 
and the mother and Fatimah had, of course, 
to hear all about the adventures at once. 

“ Shall we go out to-day, my young masters, 
and see if we can bring home some hares for 
our dinner, or perhaps catch a grouse or two? ” 
asked Awad, the falconer, when Hamid and 
Rashid came to look at the birds on the morn- 
ing after the adventure with the robbers. 

“ Yes, indeed!” cried both the boys in one 


50 Our Little Arabian Cousin 

breath; and it was not long before they were 
speeding over the plain beside Awad, with the 
two greyhounds leaping along after them. 

Awad carried his falcon, and Hamid had his 
own bird, too, perched on his wrist. Every 
now and then the boys, out of sheer fun, would 
throw their spears up in the air and catch them 
again as they were riding furiously across the 
plain. This is quite a feat, as you may imagine, 
when one is riding at full speed, but Hamid 
could do it easily. His spear was a long bam- 
boo cane with a brass tip on one end, and on 
the other an iron spear sharpened so that it 
could be stuck upright in the ground if need 
be. Next to his pony and his pistol, Hamid 
was more fond of his spear than of any other 
of his belongings ; and he could not be induced 
to part with it at any time. 

Over the rocky, sandy ground they rode, and 
through thickets of acacia and mimosa trees. 
Just as they came out into the open again there 


The Robber Band 


51 

was a whirr, and up rose a bevy of birds just 
in front of them. 

“ Now is thy chance 1 Whistle off thy fal- 
con ! ” cried Awad. 

Quick as a flash Hamid threw off his falcon 
from his wrist, and like a dart it swept after the 
fleeing birds. 

“Ho! my beauty, faster! faster! faster !” 
cried Hamid, and, patting his pony’s neck, he 
flew along, with Rashid close behind. 

“ She gains on them ! ” cried Rashid. Just 
then the falcon with a shrill cry came up with 
the poor bird it had been chasing, as it fluttered 
to the ground tired out; and, fixing its great 
talons in the feathers of its back, carried it 
toward Hamid. 

“ Well done ! ” cried Awad, as Hamid rode 
up to him, glowing with pride. “ Thou art 
indeed an apt pupil, and some day will excel 
thy teacher.” 


52 Our Little Arabian Cousin 

“ But thou didst not throw off thy own fal- 
con,” said Hamid. 

“Nay, I wanted you to have all the glory 
this time,” answered Awad, with a smile. 
“ But now comes my turn,” he exclaimed, as 
he sent his falcon flying after some hares which 
were scuttling along the ground to their holes. 
The greyhounds bounded after the frightened 
little animals; but, though they are the swiftest 
dogs known, the old falcon which Awad had 
been carrying on his wrist was faster than they. 
He caught up with the hares before they did 
and pounced upon one of them. 

By this time the sun was high above the 
horizon; and the very air seemed quivering, 
it was so hot. 

“ We will stop now and have something to 
eat, this seems a likely place,” said the old fal- 
coner, as they halted under a tree. The boys 
declared they were quite ready, and vaulted at 


The Robber Band 


53 

once from their horses; for they had eaten 
only a bit of dry bread before starting out. 

“ Thrust your spear into the ground, Rashid, 
as I have mine,” said Hamid; “and we will 
make a tent under which to rest, by hanging 
Awad’s great cloak between them.” 

“ Look, Hamid, what a pretty round, white 
stone I have found here,” called out Rashid, 
as the end of his lance struck something hard 
in the sand. 

“ Stone ! ” said Hamid, brushing the sand 
away. “ It’s an ostrich’s egg, and here is an- 
other; why, it’s an ostrich’s nest!” 

“ Oh, and to think that I found it! ” cried 
Rashid. He had seen the eggs for sale in the 
bazaars of Medina, and knew that the ostriches 
bury their eggs in the hot sand, which hatches 
them out in time; but he had hardly hoped to 
be able to ever find a real ostrich’s nest him- 
self. 

“What is this?” asked Awad, as he came 


54 Our Little Arabian Cousin 

up from hobbling the horses. “ Ostrich eggs ! 
Then likely enough the bird itself is not far 
off,” he continued, looking around. 

“ Yes, there she is,” cried Hamid, pointing 
to a spot some distance away. Sure enough, 
there was the ostrich, with its head buried in 
the sand. 

“Foolish bird! she thinks that as long as 
she hides her head in the sand, and cannot see 
us, that we are not able to see her, and that 
she is safely hidden from danger. Come, let 
us give chase,” said Awad, running back to the 
horses. So, forgetting the heat and their hun- 
ger, the boys jumped on their horses again, 
while the greyhounds, hot on the scent, led the 
chase after the big bird. 

The ostrich apparently heard them coming* 
and got her head out of the sand quickly 
enough. And did not the long-legged bird give 
them a chase, covering yards of ground at each 
step ! 


The Robber Band 


55 


“ She is throwing stones at us,” laughed 
Hamid, as the bird’s big feet sent a shower of 
small stones flying back at them. 

“ Oh, if I only had a stout rope with me,” 
said Awad. 

“ It is here,” said the black servant who had 
accompanied them, drawing a coil from his 
saddle-bag and throwing it to Awad as they all 
galloped onward. 

But if the bird was swift, so were the others, 
too; and, as the greyhounds gained on her, the 
ostrich grew bewildered until finally she turned 
at bay and showed fight. 

“ Beware ! ” shouted Awad, as he caught Zu- 
leika’s bridle and reined her back just as the 
bird lifted her great foot to strike at Hamid. 
“ A blow from her foot would be a dangerous 
thing,” he continued. At the same time he 
threw a noose of rope and skilfully entangled 
the ostrich’s foot just as one of the greyhounds 
sprang at the bird. After many struggles, the 


56 Our Little Arabian Cousin 

ostrich was thrown and secured in spite of its 
vicious kicks. 

Awad sent the servant in hot haste back to 
the tents to fetch help to get the ostrich home; 
for it is no easy matter to manage one of these 
great strong birds, even after you have got it 
well secured. 

At last our little hunting-party had a chance 
to rest; and, while they ate their dried dates 
and cakes, the boys talked of nothing but their 
ostrich hunt. Rashid was sure that this was 
the most wonderfully interesting day he had 
ever spent. 


CHAPTER IV 

RASHID GOES HOME 

In time Awad had trained the ostrich so 
well that the children could play with her as 
they did with the camels and ponies. 

One day there was a great laughing and 
shouting around the tents. No wonder! for 
there came the ostrich stalking along with 
Hamid and Rashid on her back. Hamid sat 
astride the bird’s neck, guiding it by a rope 
which was tied around its head for a bridle. 

“ Let me get up, too,” cried Fatimah, who 
came running out of the tent; and good-na- 
tured Awad swung her up beside the boys. 

“ Hold on tight,” he called out, as away 
went the big bird with a troop of little Bed- 
ouin children following a long way after. 


57 


Our Little Arabian Cousin 


58 

Such a ride as the children had! Poor Awad 
was quite breathless when they got back, from 
running to keep up with the bird’s long strides. 

But now Rashid’s happy days in the desert 
were coming to an end; for the time had come 
when he must leave the “ Black Tents ” and 
go home. He was well and strong now, and 
a messenger had come from his father, saying 
how much he missed his boy, and how all at 
home wanted to have him back again. 

“Oh, Rashid, must you go?” asked Ha- 
mid, who felt very sad at losing his little 
friend. 

“ Yes, but my father has sent word that 
you must come back with me, Hamid, for a 
visit with us.” 

And so it was all arranged that not only 
Hamid was to go with Rashid, but all the 
family as well. Everybody was very busy 
making preparations. 

There were a great many things to do in 


Rashid Goes Home 


59 * 

order to get ready for the journey, for when 
a Bedouin travels he takes his house and all 
his belongings with him. 

Long before the peep of day Nassar-Ben 
had his great camels kneeling before the tents, 
and the camel men began to fasten the loads 
on the camels’ backs, the beasts were groaning 
and moaning as they always do when they are 
being loaded. Camels are very cunning and 
wise, and try to make out that they have al- 
ready too much to carry, even before they have 
made the attempt. Every once and awhile they 
would get up, and the camel men would cry 
out to them to kneel down again and keep 
quiet, giving a sharp blow with the curved 
stick which the drivers always carry to guide 
the camels. 

One of the camels carried a litter in which 
Fatimah and her mother were to ride. It 
was like a broad seat and long enough so 
that Zubaydah and Fatimah might use it as 


60 Our Little Arabian Cousin 

a bed to lie down upon as well. Arched over 
it were poles on which hung curtains to keep 
out the dust and sun. 

“Isn’t this nice and snug?” laughed Fati- 
mah. 

“ Too snug when all of you little ones are 
here,” answered her mother. 

The children had all climbed up into the lit- 
ter to see just what it was like ; and, of course, 
they had got in the way of Zubaydah who 
was hanging the pouches or bags around in- 
side the curtains. These contained the food 
and other necessaries for the journey. 

“ It is very well for thee, Fatimah, but I 
am glad I am going to ride Zuleika,” said Ha- 
mid, slipping out and stopping to watch two 
men swing two large jars of water across the 
camel’s back behind the litter, which the Arabs 
called the “ shugduf” 

All the little Bedouin children of the neigh- 
bourhood crowded around to bid Rashid good- 



IN THE “ SHUDUF ” 



















Rashid Goes Home 


61 


bye, for they had grown very fond of him and 
were sorry to see him go. Each had brought 
him some little parting gift, such as a string 
of dates, a bunch of feathers for his spear, or 
a tame bird. 

After Rashid had thanked his kind little 
friends, there was great fun stowing the pres- 
ents away so that they might be carried safely, 
especially the shell of one of the ostrich’s eggs 
which Awad had brought him. Finally Fati- 
mah found a place for this last gift by putting 
it in a palm-leaf basket and hanging it from 
the roof of the “ shugduf.” , 

At last all was ready. The boys mounted 
their ponies and the camel men tried out or- 
ders to the great beasts, and the camels got up 
slowly, groaning under their big loads. Al- 
Abukar looked splendid as he rode at the Head 
of the little caravan on his swift dromedary. 
Over the dromedary’s back were two big sad- 
dle-bags with long crimson tassels which hung 


62 Our Little Arabian Cousin 

nearly down to the ground; the saddle itself 
was of red leather with a high ‘metal pommel 
at the front and back. Beside the dromedary 
cantered the two boys. 

Rashid turned around and waved a last 
good-bye with his spear to all his friends 
whom he had left behind at the encampment, 
while all the little Bedouins ran after him a 
little way, shouting at the tops of their voices: 
“ May your shadow never grow less, O little 
Son of the Walls!” 

Soon the “ Black Tents ” were left far be- 
hind, and the camels struck into their regular 
caravan gait, rolling and lurching like a ship 
at sea. 

If you were riding a camel for the first time 
you would understand why the Arabs call the 
camel “ the ship of the desert,” for it rolls 
backwards and forwards and pitches first for- 
ward and then backward exactly like a ship in 
mid-ocean. 


Rashid Goes Home 


63 


At noon they halted for the midday meal. 
While the men hastily put up a tent, the chil- 
dren gathered dry branches in the thickets of 
thorn-bushes with which to make the fire. 
Meanwhile Hamid had spied some tents in the 
distance; and, near them, a woman tending 
goats. 

“ May we go and ask her to give us some 
milk, mother?” asked Fatimah. 

“ Yes, and here is some bread to give her 
in exchange for the milk,” said Zubaydah. 

The Bedouin woman gladly filled the bowl 
that the children brought with them with nice 
warm goat’s milk, but when Fatimah offered 
her the bread, she shook her head angrily. 

“ Nay, nay, I am not a ' labban,’ ” — a 
milk-seller, — she said. The true Bedouins 
think it is a disgrace to sell milk, and that it 
is only right that they should give it freely to 
any stranger who may ask for it. 

When the children got back with the milk, 


64 Our Little Arabian Cousin 

Zubaydah was frying dates in butter, and soon 
they were all sitting in the shade of the tent 
eating heartily of them and the cold meat and 
rice and cakes. 

“ The camels are glad to rest, too,” said 
Rashid, watching them as they slowly knelt 
down one by one. It is one of the funniest 
sights in the world to see a camel lay down on 
the ground. He sighs and groans and slowly 
unbends his funny long legs that look as if 
they would come unjointed and drop off. He 
folds up his fore legs a little, then he folds 
up his hind legs in part, and then he falls on 
his knees until his nose nearly touches the 
ground. Now he finishes the folding up proc- 
ess with all his legs, as if they were the blades 
of a jack-knife, and tucks them well away 
beneath him. 

When it became cooler our party broke 
camp, and the little caravan started off again 
over the desert. They passed more and more 


Rashid Goes Home 


65 


tents and herds, and also a little party of trav- 
ellers like themselves, and all shouted salaams , 
or greetings, as they went by. 

When they stopped for their supper, Hamid 
and Rashid, instead of washing themselves as 
usual, poured sand over their faces and hands 
in place of water. This is the Mohammedan 
custom when travelling in the desert, for where 
water has to be carried with one, it must not 
be wasted. 

When bedtime came the children were quite 
ready for it, for it had been a long, hard day. 
Fatimah said she would rather sleep in the 
tent; but the two boys rolled themselves up 
in their rugs on the warm sand outside, and, 
with their saddles for pillows, slept as soundly 
as did their ponies, who were tethered beside 
them. 

“ Fasten the curtains of the litter well,” said 
Al-Abukar when the little party started off 


66 Our Little Arabian Cousin 

the next day, “ the ‘ poison-wind ’ has begun 
to blow.” 

“ Ugh! and it is as hot as if it blew from 
a furnace,” said Hamid, tying the end of his 
kerchief tightly across his mouth. Rashid did 
the same, while Fatimah helped her mother to 
draw the curtains tightly around them; for the 
simoon , as this great desert wind is called, was 
blowing great whirls of sand into their faces. 

“ Here conies a thing of ill-omen,” said Ha- 
mid’s father, pointing to a great column of 
sand which whirled by them at a rapid rate. 

“ Ay, it is a genie , the evil spirit of the des- 
ert,” muttered the old camel-sheik, wrapping 
his cloak more closely about him. 

The genie is practically a pillar of sand 
drawn up into the air by the wind as it whirls 
and blows around and around with a circular 
motion, very much in the same way that a 
water-spout is formed at sea. The Arabs are 
all afraid of the genie, and say it is an evil 


Rashid Goes Home 


67 


spirit; and no wonder, for these moving col- 
umns of sand do not look unlike some strange, 
living thing as they go dancing across the 
desert. 

The wind was blowing so hard when they 
halted at midday that they could not think of 
putting up a tent or cooking; but ate as best 
they could huddled up beside the kneeling cam- 
els, with their cloaks pulled up over their 
heads. 

“ I am eating more sand than bread,” said 
Hamid, with disgust, as he held tightly to his 
cloak to keep it wrapped closely about him, 
and tried to eat at the same time. 

“ I know I must have eaten a basketful,” 
said Rashid. 

“ Oh, there goes my veil,” cried Fatimah, 
who had thoughtlessly popped her head out of 
the litter. 

“ Thou wilt never see it again,” said her 


68 Our Little Arabian Cousin 

mother. Almost immediately it had been lost 
to view as it went sailing through the air. 

“ Never mind, thou shalt buy the prettiest 
that can be found in the Bazaar when we get 
to the city,” said her father, consolingly. 

The little caravan struggled against the 
wind all the rest of the day; and that night 
there was no sleeping in a tent for anybody. 
The next day, however, things went better. 

“Oh! I see over there a beautiful lake of 
blue water and palm-trees beside it,” cried 
Fatimah. “ Look, mother,” she said, waking 
her mother from a doze and pointing across 
the sandy plain. 

“ Indeed it looks as though there were 
water and trees ahead,” said her mother; but 
Al-Abukar answered: “Nay, it is but a mi- 
rage ” 

“ But we can see the ripple of the water; 
it must be real,” persisted Fatimah. 

“ Nay,” said the camel man, and shielding 


Rashid Goes Home 


69 

his eyes with his hand, he peered at the strange 
sight. “ The camels say nothing,” he contin- 
ued, “ and they are wise and can always tell 
when water is near. If it were real water 
they would begin to whine and groan.” Sure 
enough, as they went toward the mirage, it 
faded away altogether, the lake, trees, and all. 

“ But it did look real, did it not, father?” 
said Fatimah. 

“ Ah, so has thought many a poor traveller 
to his undoing, when he was lost in the desert 
and was dying of thirst,” answered her father. 
“ He thinks he sees cool water and green trees 
ahead of him, and hurries along to reach them, 
only to find that the mocking mirage has faded 
away and that there is nothing there but the 
hot sand of the desert.” 

A mirage really is nothing more than a sort 
of reflection of some very distant object pro- 
jected into the sky through the hot, dry air 
of the desert. Sometimes the desert traveller 


yo Our Little Arabian Cousin 

sees a phantom city in the clouds, and some- 
times a ship, as if it were floating on the sandy 
waves of the desert instead of on the ocean; 
but it is all a delusion and not real. 

From now on, the little Bedouins began to 
remark that they were leaving the desert be- 
hind them. They began to pass some houses, 
and then small villages of mud huts with roofs 
of palm-leaves. Around these villages were 
little fields divided off by low ridges of earth. 
There were orchards of fruit-trees, and Hamid 
and Rashid rode up to one of these and bought 
some pomegranates. 

“Did ever anything taste nicer?” said 
Fatimah. And they all agreed with her as 
they ate the sweet, pink pomegranate seeds. 

Soon they were riding through great groves 
of date-palms, and shortly caught a glimpse of 
the city shining white through the trees still 
some distance away. 

“Oh, Hamid! I believe that is my father 


Rashid Goes Home 


71 

yonder,’’ cried Rashid, as he caught sight of 
several horsemen riding toward them. 

It was true; it was the Sharif, Rashid’s 
father, who, with a party of relatives, had 
come out to meet them. Rashid galloped for- 
ward, and in another moment was in the arms 
of his father. 

The caravan came to a halt, and, after many 
greetings on all sides, got under way again, 
and they all rode together into the city. 

41 Is not the big city a wonderful place?” 
whispered little Fatimah to her mother as they 
rode through the great city gates of stone, the 
walls of which were painted with broad bands 
of yellow and red. She had never before seen 
a large city. 

“ Keep clear of the sides, O camel men ! ” 
shouted out Nassar-Ben, who had hard work 
guiding his little caravan through the narrow, 
winding streets. The camel men had to run 
behind their charges, prodding them with 


72 Our Little Arabian Cousin 

sticks and crying out: “Go in the middle of 
the road! O! He! O! Hi!” 

Finally they came to the great square called 
the “ Kneeling Place of the Camels,” because 
all the caravans which came into the city were 
obliged to unload or encamp there. On one 
side of the square was the house in which 
Rashid lived. “ Welcome to our house,” said 
the Sharif, as he led his friends through a 
gateway and into a large courtyard. 

Here they dismounted. Rashid’s mother 
and his big brother, Ali, and all the other 
relations and servants rushed out to meet them. 
And wasn’t Rashid glad to see them all again! 


CHAPTER V 


HAMID AND FATIMAH SEE THE GREAT CITY 

“What is that?” asked Hamid, who was 
awakened in the morning by the sound of a 
voice shouting, “ Great is Allah ! ” He and 
Rashid were sleeping on the roof of the house, 
as city Arabs often do in the hot weather. 

“ That is the ‘ Muezzin,’ ” replied Rashid. 
“ Come to the parapet and you can see him.” 

Rashid pointed to a tall, slender tower not 
far away. Near the top was a small balcony, 
on which a man was standing. He calls out 
these words every day at sunrise and sunset to 
remind the people that they must not forget 
to say their prayers. In a monotonous sing- 
song voice he calls : “ Great is Allah ! there is 
no God but Allah and Mohammed is his 


73 


74 Our Little Arabian Cousin 

Prophet.” When the people hear this cry, 
they rise and say their prayers, always looking 
toward Mecca, the Holy City. 

Hamid could see five of these long needle- 
like towers or minarets, and a great green 
dome, rising above the tree-tops not far away. 

“That is the great Mosque,” said Rashid; 
“ and we are going there to-day because — ” 
but he got no further, for just at that moment 
a dozen or more pigeons came flying about 
him, fluttering their wings on his face and 
perching on his shoulders. 

“ Oh, what pretty birds ! How tame they 
are ! ” said Hamid, stroking the smooth wings 
of one of the white doves. 

“ They are my pets,” said Rashid. “ They 
come every morning to be fed. Let us give 
them their breakfasts.” Leading the way to 
the storeroom on the ground floor, he filled 
a basket with grain which he took from one 
of the great bags which were always stored 





“THEY SCATTERED THE GRAIN ALL ABOUT THE COURTYARD 


































































. 



































* 






































































■ . ■ ■' 









■ 













The Great City 75 

there. Then they scattered the grain all about 
the courtyard in the centre of the house, to the 
great delight of the pigeons. 

The little Bedouins were eager to see the 
city; and, of course, the first place that Rashid 
showed his friends was the great Mosque, as 
their church was called. 

It was the same where Hamid had seen the 
“ Muezzin ” in the tower. This Mosque is 
very sacred to the Arabs, and they visit it at 
every opportunity, because it is the tomb of 
the great Arab Prophet Mohammed. When 
they reached the Mosque, they left their slip- 
pers outside, and, after saying a prayer or two, 
Rashid showed Hamid and Fatimah around 
the great building. 

After this they walked down the long street 
that led from the Mosque to the great City 
Gate. Here were gathered all the shops. 
Such funny little shops ! Nothing but little 
rickety wooden booths thatched with palm- 


76 Our Little Arabian Cousin 

leaves, and very dingy and dirty. However, 
they contained many wonderful and curious 
things. The children marvelled at them all. 
There were great strings and bunches of pink, 
red, and white coral that is found on the rocks 
in the Red Sea, and there were ornaments and 
jewelry made of mother-of-pearl; as well as 
many kinds of strange weapons, whose handles 
were inlaid with pieces of this same glittering 
shell. 

“ Just look at that lamp,” said Hamid, 
“ made from an ostrich’s egg,” as he stopped 
before one of the booths where the shells of 
the eggs of these big birds had been mounted 
in brass and silver and made into hanging- 
lamps, pipe-bowls, and vases. 

Fatimah was very happy. She had found 
a booth where she could buy a pretty rose- 
coloured veil to replace the one she had lost 
in the desert. 

In the shadow of the big City Gate a num- 


The Great City 77 

ber of children were sitting weaving baskets 
and mats of palm-leaves. 

“ How easily she does it,” said Fatimah, 
as they stood watching one of the little girls 
plait the long strips of dry leaves into a pretty 
basket. 

By the time our little party had walked up 
and down the long line of shops many times, 
they were quite ready to go home and rest in 
the balcony of the “ majlis,” or parlour of the 
house. The children soon found that this bal- 
cony was a very cosy nook in which to sit be- 
cause it hung out over the street, so that they 
might easily see everything which went on in 
the big, lively square. 

The “ majlis ” itself, which extended back 
into the house, was a great big, bare room with 
a divan of cushions around the walls and a 
large rug covering the floor in the centre. 
There was no furniture except a low table in 
the middle, on which were the hubble-bubble 


78 Our Little Arabian Cousin 

pipes and a brass tray which held the coffee- 
pot and cups. High up on the wall hung some 
swords and guns well out of the reach of the 
little folks. 

Some days later Hamid was kneeling in the 
“ majlis ” balcony and peeping out through the 
carved wooden lattice which enclosed the bal- 
cony on the street side, while Fatimah stood 
behind him looking over his shoulder. Sud- 
denly Rashid put his head in at the door and 
exclaimed: “I have been looking everywhere 
for thee.” 

“ Just come and look out on the square, 
Rashid; it is full of people and camels and 
horses, and tents are being put up all over it,” 
called out Hamid. 

“ It is the big caravan that comes from 
Damascus. They are the pilgrims on their 
way to the Holy City,” said Rashid, joining 
them on the balcony. “ I was looking every- 


The Great City 79 

where for thee to tell thee of it. Father says 
there are many thousands of the pilgrims.” 

Such a bustle and scurrying about and noise 
as there was in the big square. Tents were 
being put up like magic, camels were being 
unloaded, and horses and donkeys and drome- 
daries were stamping around, and little chil- 
dren were tearing about everywhere and get- 
ting in the way, — for many of the pilgrims 
take their families with them. 

“ There are the tents of the Pacha, the chief 
of the caravan, ” said Rashid, pointing to the 
big green tents with gold crescents on their 
tops. The Pacha’s tents occupied the chief 
place right in the middle of the square. 

“ The Pacha rides in a splendid litter swung 
between two beautiful horses, and those must 
be his dromedaries yonder with the rich trap- 
pings,” said Rashid, who could explain all this 
to his little companions, because each year he 


8o Our Little Arabian Cousin 


had seen the caravan arrive and depart, always 
with the same magnificence and splendour. 

It is the religious duty of all good Moham- 
medans, as the followers of the Great Prophet 
are called, to make at least one pilgrimage to 
Mecca, the capital city of Arabia, called the 
“ Holy City.” 

For this reason every year great caravans 
from far and near journey across Arabia car- 
rying thousands of pilgrims to Mecca. 

“ See ! see ! I do believe there is Nawara,” 
cried Fatimah, “ there, just by the big tent.” 

“ Yes, it is she,” said Hamid, “ and there is 
the old merchant, too.” 

With one accord the three children ran 
down into the square, dodging under camels 
and around tents, until at last they got to 
where Nawara was standing. The little girl 
was so astonished to see her friends of the des- 
ert that for a moment she could say nothing. 
Then she threw her arms around Fatimah, 



THE CARAVAN ON THE ROAD TO MECCA. 


::rr: 






































f 















I 









1 










9 












































t 



























































The Great City 8 1 

crying out how glad she was to see her 
again. 

“ But, Nawara, what are you doing here?” 
asked Fatimah. 

“ Grandfather is going to make the pilgrim- 
age to the Holy City, and we are going with 
the caravan because it is safer,” said Nawara, 
in her little wise way. “ Then, too, grand- 
father will be able to sell his wares to the 
pilgrims.” 

The old merchant now joined them and was 
as pleased to see them again as was his little 
granddaughter. He had already put on the 
special dress that pilgrims wear, of white cloth 
with red stripes, and carried a big rosary of 
beads at his belt. When he told them that 
the caravan would stay there until the next day 
at evening, the children said that Nawara must 
stay with them until all was ready for the de- 
parture. So Nawara went to the great house 
with Fatimah. Later the old merchant came, 


82 Our Little Arabian Cousin 

too, and Rashid’s mother gave them a nice 
supper. They all sat around a big tray filled 
with good things to eat, while Nawara told 
the children of all that had happened to her 
since they had parted in the desert. 

All the next day the young folks waited for 
the sound of the cannon, which was to be the 
signal for the caravan to start. Every few 
minutes one or the other of the boys would 
rush into the house, saying that the gun had 
gone off and the camels were going; but it 
proved each time a false alarm, and Fatimah 
had just told Nawara to make up her mind 
to stay another night when the old merchant’s 
servant came rushing in to say that the head 
of the caravan had already started and was 
just then passing out the great gate. So once 
more Nawara had to part from her kind little 
friends. 

The children ran up on top of the house, 
and for a long time they could see the big 


The Great City 83 

caravan winding over the hills and through 
the plantations of palm-trees. 

“ Father, can’t we go out to the palm groves 
to-day to see the men gather the dates? Many 
of the children of the city are going,” begged 
Rashid. 

“ Yes,” said Rashid’s father. “ I have no 
doubt but that all you young folks will be 
fighting together in no time, and there will be 
more stones gathered than dates. Remember 
what happened last week.” So saying, the 
Sharif sat back on the divan and took another 
pull at his long pipe. 

Rashid hung his head and tried to look 
sorry; but his eye twinkled when he thought 
of the wild scrimmage with sticks and stones 
that had taken place between the boys of the 
town and the boys outside the walls. He had 
fought on the side of the city boys; and, of 
course, Hamid, though he was of the desert 
himself, sided with him. There was always 


84 Our Little Arabian Cousin 

great jealousy between these two clans of boys, 
and they were all the time carrying war into 
each other’s territory; but, after all, not much 
damage was done on either side beyond some 
bruised heads and a few broken sticks. 

“ Thou hast become quite a fighter since 
thy life in the ‘ Black Tents,’ ” said his father; 
“ but if Ali will go along to keep thee from 
getting into mischief, thou mayst go with thy 
little friends.” Ali said that he would go, 
and they ran to saddle their ponies. 

“ How am I to go? ” asked Fatimah. 

“ Oh, thou canst ride with me,” said Ha- 
mid, like the good brother that he was; and 
Ali put her up on Zuleika behind Hamid. 
Away they trotted out of the great gate 
toward the large groves of palm-trees which 
surround Medina. 

The road was lively with parties of children 
who, like themselves, were going to the palm 
groves; for it was the season when the Bed- 


The Great City 85 

ouln farmers cut down the great bunches of 
dates, and every one, especially the children, 
made a regular picnic of it. All the children 
of the city, apparently, were hurrying along, 
some on horseback and many more on foot, all 
bent on having a good time. 

Just behind our young people came some 
children riding on donkeys, trying their best 
to make their little donkeys keep up with the 
desert ponies of the boys. 

Hamid looked back at them and sang out: 

“ The riding of a horse is an honour to the rider 
And joyful is his face; 

But the mule is a dishonour 
And the donkey a disgrace.* * 

Then Rashid began to laugh. This made the 
little donkey boys very angry. Off they jumped 
from their donkeys, and were picking up stones 
to throw at Rashid and his friends, while Ali 
threatened them with his stick. 

“ No wonder father sent me with you to 


86 Our Little Arabian Cousin 

look after you,” said Ali, shaking his finger at 
Hamid and Rashid as they rode on laughing, 
“ if you are bound to get into mischief as early 
in the day as this.” 

“ But all the same no Bedouin boy would 
ride a donkey or a mule for anything,” said 
Hamid. 

“ That is quite true among you desert peo- 
ple,” said Ali ; “ but these town and farmer 
folk don’t care on what they ride so long as 
they do not have to walk.” 

Now they had come to a large grove of 
palm-trees, and near one of the trees was a 
man standing with a rope in his hand. 

“ Let us stop here,” said Ali, calling out to 
Rashid; “there is a man going to climb up 
to the top of a tree now.” 

The children jumped quickly off their horses 
and joined the group of people under the trees 
watching the man. 

He had tied one end of the rope around his 


The Great City 87 

waist and had passed it around the slim trunk 
of the tree, attaching the other end also to his 
waist. With this rope holding him well up 
against the tree-trunk, he began to climb by 
holding on to the rough bark wherever he 
could get a hold for as much as one of his toes, 
at the same time bracing himself against the 
strong rope which held him. 

“ I should not like to do that,” said Ra- 
shid. 

“ I wonder that he does not get giddy and 
fall,” said Fatimah. 

But the man went up easily, though he had 
a long way to climb. Like most date-palms, 
the tree was very tall, and the leaves and fruit 
all grew together on the very tip-top of the 
great stem or trunk. It was, as Hamid said, 
“just like the bunch of feathers on the end of 
his spear.” 

When the man finally did reach the bunch 
of dates, it was quite a job to cut through the 


88 Our Little Arabian Cousin 

big stem, which was nearly as large around as 
his arm. 

“Isn’t that a big bunch?” said Hamid, as 
the man lowered the great golden-coloured 
dates to the ground. 

“ Yes,” said Rashid, “ but look, there must 
be some larger bunches still, for some are tied 
up to keep them from breaking off their 
stems.” 

The women and children were collecting the 
gathered dates and packing them in skins and 
boxes and baskets to be sent away to the 
markets; but the dried dates that we so often 
eat are left much longer on the trees to ripen 
and grow sugary. 

“ Oh, Hamid, thou and Fatimah must have 
a ‘ necklace of sham 1 to wear ! All the chil- 
dren have them ! ” said Rashid, who had been 
exploring the garden and had come running 
quickly back. “ There is a woman making 
them now.” 


The Great City 89 

The woman was threading dates on a string 
and then dipping them into boiling water so 
that they would keep their pretty golden col- 
our. Then she put them aside in the sun to 
dry. 

Rashid bargained with the woman for three 
of the necklaces at once. 

“ It brings one good luck to wear a necklace 
of the dates of Medina,” said the woman as 
she hung the strings of dates around the chil- 
dren’s necks; “and thou must not eat them 
as this naughty one here has just done.” She 
frowned at her own little girl, who stood by 
sobbing because her mother had just given her 
a box on the ear for eating half of her new 
necklace. 

The children had a jolly time helping to 
pick the dates and pack them, though likely 
there was more play than work. And they 
all ate so many dates it was a wonder that 
they were not ill. 


go Our Little Arabian Cousin 

At sundown they rode back to the town, 
chaffing and laughing with everybody they met 
along the road. When they got home, hot 
and tired, Rashid’s mother gave them a lovely 
drink made of the juice of fresh pomegranates, 
cooled in the snowy ice which was brought 
down to the city each night from the neigh- 
bouring mountains. 

“ Do you know why the letter ‘O’ is on 
every date stone?” asked Rashid that evening 
as he and Hamid were sitting in the courtyard 
playing checkers with date stones, while Fati- 
mah sat watching the progress of the game. 
They often occupied themselves thus in the 
cool of the evening after supper. 

“ I have never seen the ‘ O; ’ where is it? ” 
asked Hamid, carefully looking at a date stone 
as if he was only seeing one for the first time. 

“ There it is,” said Rashid, who showed 
him a tiny round ring on one side of the date 
stone. “ It is said that when our great 


The Great City 


91 


Prophet first ate of the fruit of the date-palm, 
he exclaimed : 1 Oh ! what a fine fruit ! * Ever 
since the letter ‘ O ’ has been found on every 
date stone.” 

Hamid and Fatimah began looking closely 
at every date stone they could find; and, sure 
enough, on every one of them there was a tiny 
letter “O.” You will always find it there, too, 
if you look for it. 

But the young people did not always play. 
In the early mornings and cool evenings 
Rashid and Hamid went to school in one cor- 
ner of the great Mosque. Here the pupils sat 
in rows on mats, or lounged about on the floor. 
Before each pupil was a little wooden stand, 
on which lay a big book from which they 
shouted out their lessons in a loud voice. 
They made such a noise that one wonders how 
they could learn anything at all. 

The other children called Hamid the little 
“ Sheik ” and often they would forget all 


92 Our Little Arabian Cousin 

about lessons while they listened to his stories 
about the great desert. Meantime Fatimah 
was learning how to make many nice new 
dishes in the big kitchen at home, or she sat 
with her mother in the women’s part of the 
house, learning how to sew like little city 
girls. 

But, in spite of these happy days spent by 
the desert folk with the “ People of the 
Walls,” the little Bedouins began to long for 
the great wide desert and its life of freedom. 
Soon the end of their visit came; one day the 
little caravan could be seen making its way 
homeward to their own country far beyond the 
plain which came up to the city walls. 

The first news that Hamid sent Rashid 
after he got home to the “ Black Tents ” was 
about the robber chief. His band had paid a 
ransom for him and he had been given his 
liberty, after he had promised solemnly not 
to attempt to rob or kill again. You must 


The Great City 93 

know that a promise made in the “ Black 
Tents ” is never broken. 

The interchange of visits between Hamid 
and Rashid occurred regularly each year. 
Rashid learned of the ways of the dwellers 
in the “Black Tents;” and gained in health 
and strength until even Hamid was not Kis 
superior in hunting or the rougher games of 
the plains. Hamid, on the other hand, learned 
of the life in the Great City, and profited 
much from the loving companionship of his 
little friend among the “ People of the 
Walls.” Fatimah, too, shared in the happy 
visits and grew to be called “ the beautiful 
daughter of the Sheik, wise with the wisdom 
of both desert and city.” 


THE END. 


THE LITTLE COUSIN SERIES 


The most delightful and interesting accounts possible of 
child-life in other lands, filled with quaint sayings, doings, 
and adventures. 

Each i vol., i2mo, decorative cover, cloth, with six or 
more full-page illustrations in color. 

Price per volume $0.60 

By MARY HAZELTON WADE ( unless otherwise 
indicated ) 


Our Little African Cousin 
Our Little Armenian Cousin 
Our Little Brown Cousin 

Our Little Canadian Cousin 

By Elizabeth R. Macdonald 

Our Little Chinese Cousin 

By Isaac Taylor Headland 

Our Little Cuban Cousin 

Our Little Dutch Cousin 

By Blanche McManus 

Our Little English Cousin 

By Blanche McManus 

Our Little Eskimo Cousin 

Our Little French Cousin 

By Blanche McManus 

Our Little German Cousin 

Our Little Hawaiian Cousin 

Our Little Indian Cousin 

Our Little Irish Cousin 

Our Little Italian Cousin 
A — 1 


Our Little Japanese Cousin 
Our Little Jewish Cousin 

Our Little Korean Cousin 

By H. Lee M. Pike 

Our Little Mexican Cousin 

By Edward C. Butler 

Our Little Norwegian Cousin 

Our Little Panama Cousin 

By H. Lee M. Pike 

Our Little Philippine Cousin 
Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 
Our Little Russian Cousin 

Our Little Scotch Cousin 

By Blanche McManus 

Our Little Siamese Cousin 

Our Little Spanish Cousin 

By Mary F. Nixon - Roulet 

Our Little Swedish Cousin 

By Claire M. Coburn 

Our Little Swiss Cousin 
Our Little Turkish Cousin 


THE GOLDENROD LIBRARY 

The Goldenrod Library contains only the highest and 
purest literature, — stories which appeal alike both to chil- 
dren and to their parents and guardians. 

Each volume is well illustrated from drawings by compe- 
tent artists, which, together with their handsomely decorated 
uniform binding, showing the goldenrod, usually considered 
the emblem of America, is a feature of their manufacture. 

Each one volume, small i2mo, illustrated, dec- 
orated cover, paper wrapper . . . #0.35 

LIST OP TITLES 

Aunt Nabbyfc Children. By Frances Hodges White. 
Child's Dream of a Star, The. By Charles Dickens. 
Flight of Rosy Dawn, The. By Pauline Bradford Mackie 

Findelkind. By Ouida. 

Fairy of the Rhone, The. By A. Comyns Carr. 

Gatty and I. By Frances E. Crompton. 

Great Emergency, A. By Juliana Horatia Ewing. 

Helena's Wonderworld. By Frances Hodges White. 
Jackanapes. By Juliana Horatia Ewing. 

Jerry's Reward. By Evelyn Snead Barnett. 

La Belle Nivernaise. By Alphonse Daudet. 

Little King Davie. By Nellie Hellis. 

Little Peterkin Vandike. By Charles Stuart Pratt. 

Little Professor, The. By Ida Horton Cash. 

Peggy's Trial. By Mary Knight Potter. 

Prince Yellowtop. By Kate Whiting Patch. 

Provence Rose, A. By Ouida. 

Rab and His Friends. By Dr. John Brown. 

Seventh Daughter, A. By Grace Wickham Curran. 
Sleeping Beauty, The. By Martha Baker Dunn. 

Small, Small Child, A. By E. Livingston Prescott. 

Story of a Short Life, The. By Juliana Horatia Ewing. 
Susanne. By Frances J. Delano. 

Water People, The. By Charles Lee Sleight. 

Young Archer, The. By Charles E. Brimblecom. 

A — » 


COSY CORNER SERIES 

It is the intention of the publishers that this series shall 
contain only the very highest and purest literature, — 
stories that shall not only appeal to the children them- 
selves, but be appreciated by all those who feel with 
them in their joys and sorrows. 

The numerous illustrations in each book are by well-known 
artists, and each volume has a separate attractive cover 
design. 

Each i vol., i6mo, cloth $o. 5 c 

By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON 

The Little Colonel. (Trade Mark.) 

The scene of this story is laid in Kentucky. Its heroine 
is a small girl, who is known as the Little Colonel, on 
account of her fancied resemblance to an old-school South- 
ern gentleman, whose fine estate and old family are famous 
in the region. 

The Giant Scissors. 

This is the story of Joyce and of her adventures in 
France. Joyce is a great friend of the Little Colonel, and 
in later volumes shares with her the delightful experiences 
of the “ House Party ” and the “ Holidays.” 

Two Little Knights of Kentucky. 

Who Were the Little Colonel’s Neighbors. 

In this volume the Little Colonel returns to us like an 
old friend, but with added grace and charm. She is not, 
however, the central figure of the story, that place being 
taken by the “ two little knights.” 

Mildred’s Inheritance. 

A delightful little story of a lonely English girl who 
comes to America and is befriended by a sympathetic 
American family who are attracted by her beautiful speak- 
ing voice. By means of this one gift she is enabled to 
help a school-girl who has temporarily lost the use of her 
eyes, and thus finally her life becomes a busy, happy one. 

A — 3 


L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY’S 


By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON ( Continued ) 

Cicely and Other Stories for Girls. 

The readers of Mrs. Johnston’s charming juveniles will 
be glad to learn of the issue of this volume for young 
people. 

Aunt ’Liza’s Hero and Other Stories. 

A collection of six bright little stories, which will appeal 
to all boys and most girls. 

Big Brother. 

A story of two boys. The devotion and care of Steven, 
himself a small boy, for his baby brother, is the theme of 
the simple tale. 

Ole Mammy’s Torment. 

“ Ole Mammy’s Torment” has been fitly called “ a classic 
of Southern life.” It relates the haps and mishaps of a 
small negro lad, and tells how he was led by love and kind- 
ness to a knowledge of the right. 

The Story of Dago. 

In this story Mrs. Johnston relates the story of Dago, a 
pet monkey, owned jointly by two brothers. Dago tells 
his own story, and the account of his haps and mishaps is 
both interesting and amusing. 

The Quilt That Jack Built. 

A pleasant little story of a boy’s labor of love, and how 
it changed the course of his life many years after it was 
accomplished. 

Flip’s Islands of Providence. 

A story of a boy’s life battle, his early defeat, and his 
final triumph, well worth the reading. 

A— 4 


COSY CORNER SERIES 


By EDITH ROBINSON 

A Little Puritan’s First Christmas. 

A story of Colonial times in Boston, telling how Christ- 
mas was invented by Betty Sewall, a typical child of the 
Puritans, aided by her brother Sam. 

A Little Daughter of Liberty. 

The author’s motive for this story is well indicated by a 
quotation from her introduction, as follows : 

“ One ride is memorable in the early history of the 
American Revolution, the well-known ride of Paul Revere. 
Equally deserving of commendation is another ride, — the 
ride of Anthony Severn, — which was no less historic in its 
action or memorable in its consequences.” 

A Loyal Little Maid. 

A delightful and interesting story of Revolutionary days, 
in which the child heroine, Betsey Schuyler, renders im- 
portant services to George Washington. 

A Little Puritan Rebel. 

This is an historical tale of a real girl, during the time 
when the gallant Sir Harry Vane was governor of Massa- 
chusetts. 

A Little Puritan Pioneer. 

The scene of this story is laid in the Puritan settlement at 
Charlestown. The little girl heroine adds another to the 
list of favorites so well known to the young people. 

A Little Puritan Bound Girl. 

A story of Boston in Puritan days, which is of great 
interest to youthful readers. 

A Little Puritan Cavalier. 

The story of a “ Little Puritan Cavalier ” who tried with 
all his boyish enthusiasm to emulate the spirit and ideals oi 
the dead Crusaders. 

A — O 


Z. C. PAGE AND COMPANY'S 


By OUIDA ( Louise de la Ramie ) 

A Dog of Flanders : A Christmas Story. 

Too well and favorably known to require description. 

The Nurnberg Stove. 

This beautiful story has never before been published at 
a popular price. 

By PRANCES MARGARET FOX 

The Little Giant’s Neighbours. 

A charming nature story of a “ little giant ” whose neigh* 
bours were the creatures of the field and garden. 

Farmer Brown and the Birds. 

A little story which teaches children that the birds are 
man’s best friends. 

Betty of Old Mackinaw. 

A charming story of child-life, appealing especially to 
the little readers who like stories of “ real people.” 

Brother Billy. 

The story of Betty’s brother, and some further adven- 
tures of Betty herself. 

Mother Nature’s Little Ones. 

Curious little sketches describing the early lifetime, or 
“ childhood,” of the little creatures out-of-doors. 

How Christmas Came to the Mul- 
vaneys. 

A bright, lifelike little story of a family of poor children, 
with an unlimited capacity for fun and mischief. The 
wonderful never-to-be forgotten Christmas that came to 
them is the climax of a series of exciting incidents. 

A — 6 


COSY CORNER SERIES 


By MISS MU LOCK 

The Little Lame Prince. 

A delightful story of a little boy who has many adven. 
tures by means of the magic gifts of his fairy godmother. 

Adventures of a Brownie. 

The story of a household elf who torments the cook and 
gardener, but is a constant joy and delight to the children 
who love and trust him. 

His Little Mother. 

Miss Mulock’s short stories for children are a constant 
source of delight to them, and “ His Little Mother,” in this 
new and attractive dress, will be welcomed by hosts of 
youthful readers. 

Little Sunshine’s Holiday. 

An attractive story of a summer outing. “ Little Sun- 
shine ” is another of those beautiful child-characters for 
which Miss Mulock is so justly famous. 

By MARSHALL SAUNDERS 

For His Country. 

A sweet and graceful story of a little boy who loved his 
country ; written with that charm which has endeared Miss 
Saunders to hosts of readers. 

Nita, the Story of an Irish Setter. 

In this touching little book, Miss Saunders shows how 
dear to her heart are all of God’s dumb creatures. 

Alpatok, the Story of an Eskimo Dog. 

Alpatok, an Eskimo dog from the far north, was stolen 
from his master and left to starve in a strange city, but was 
befriended and cared for, until he was able to return to his 
owner. Miss Saunders’s story is based on truth, and the 
pictures in the book of “ Alpatok ” are based on a photo- 
graph of the real Eskimo dog who had such a strange ex^ 
perience. 

A — 7 


L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY’S 


By WILL ALLEN DROMGOOLE 

The Farrier’s Dog and His Fellow. 

This story, written by the gifted young Southern woman, 
will appeal to all that is best in the natures of the many 
admirers of her graceful and piquant style. 


The Fortunes of the Fellow. 

Those who read and enjoyed the pathos and charm of 
“The Farrier’s Dog and His Fellow” will welcome the 
further account of the adventures of Baydaw and the Fal- 
low at the home of the kindly smith. 


The Best of Friends. 

This continues the experiences of the Farrier’s dog and 
his Fellow, written in Miss Dromgoole’s well-known charm- 
ing style. 

Down in Dixie. 

A fascinating story for boys and girls, of a family of Ala- 
bama children who move to Florida and grow up in the 
South. 


By MARIAN W. WILDMAN 

Loyalty Island. 

An account of the adventures of four children and their 
pet dog on an island, and how they cleared their brother 
from the suspicion of dishonesty. 


Theodore and Theodora. 

This is a story of the exploits and mishaps of two mis- 
chievous twins, and continues the adventures of the interest- 
ing group of children in “ Loyalty Island.” 

A — 8 


THE LITTLE COUSIN SERIES 


The most delightful and interesting accounts possible of 
child-life in other lands, filled with quaint sayings, doings, 
and adventures. 

Each i vol., i2mo, decorative cover, cloth, with six or 
more full-page illustrations in color. 

Price per volume $0.60 

By MARY HAZ ELTON WADE (1 unless otherwise 
indicated ) 


Our Little African Cousin 
Our Little Armenian Cousin 
Our Little Brown Cousin 

Our Little Canadian Cousin 

By Elizabeth R. Macdonald 

Our Little Chinese Cousin 

By Isaac Taylor Headland 

Our Little Cuban Cousin 

Our Little Dutch Cousin 

By Blanche McManus 

Our Little English Cousin 

By Blanche McManus 

Our Little Eskimo Cousin 

Our Little French Cousin 

By Blanche McManus 

Our Little German Cousin 

Our Little Hawaiian Cousin 

Our Little Indian Cousin 

Our Little Irish Cousin 

Our Little Italian Cousin 
A — 1 


Our Little Japanese Cousin 
Our Little Jewish Cousin 

Our Little Korean Cousin 

By H. Lee M. Pike 

Our Little Mexican Cousin 

By Edward C. Butler 

Our Little Norwegian Cousin 

Our Little Panama Cousin 

By H. Lee M. Pike 

Our Little Philippine Cousin 
Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 
Our Little Russian Cousin 

Our Little Scotch Cousin 

By Blanche McManus 

Our Little Siamese Cousin 

Our Little Spanish Cousin 

By Mary F. Nixon - Roulet 

Our Little Swedish Cousin 

By Claire M. Cobum 

Our Little Swiss Cousin 
Our Little Turkish Cousin 




THE GOLDENROD LIBRARY 

The Goldenrod Library contains only the highest and 
purest literature, — stories which appeal alike both to chil- 
dren and to their parents and guardians. 

Each volume is well illustrated from drawings by compe- 
tent artists, which, together with their handsomely decorated 
uniform binding, showing the goldenrod, usually considered 
the emblem of America, is a feature of their manufacture. 

Each one volume, small i2mo, illustrated, dec- 
orated cover, paper wrapper . . . $0.35 

LIST OF TITLES 

Aunt Nabby's Children. By Frances Hodges White. 
Child’s Dream of a Star, The. By Charles Dickens. 
Flight of Rosy Dawn, The. By Pauline Bradford Mackie 

Findelkind. By Ouida. 

Fairy of the Rhone, The. By A. Comyns Carr. 

Gatty and I. By Frances E. Crompton. 

Great Emergency, A. By Juliana Horatia Ewing. 

Helena’s Wonderworld. By Frances Hodges White. 
Jackanapes. By Juliana Horatia Ewing. 

Jerry’s Reward. By Evelyn Snead Barnett. 

La Belle Nivernaise. By Alphonse Daudet. 

Little King Davie. By Nellie Hellis. 

Little Peterkin Vandike. By Charles Stuart Pratt. 

Little Professor, The. By Ida Horton Cash. 

Peggy’s Trtdl. By Mary Knight Potter. 

Prince Yellowtop. By Kate Whiting Patch. 

Provence Rose, A. By Ouida. 

Rab and His Friends. By Dr. John Brown. 

Seventh Daughter, A. By Grace Wickham Curran. 
Sleeping Beauty, The. By Martha Baker Dunn. 

Small, Small Chtfd, A. By E. Livingston Prescott. 

Story of a Short Life, The. By Juliana Horatia Ewing 
Susanne. By Frances J. Delano. 

Water People, The. By Charles Lee Sleight. 

Young Archer, The. By Charles E. Brimblecom. 

A— a 


COSY CORNER SERIES 

It is the intention of the publishers that this series shall 
contain only the very highest and purest literature, — 
stories that shall not only appeal to the children them- 
selves, but be appreciated by all those who feel with 
them in their joys and sorrows. 

The numerous illustrations in each book are by well-known 
artists, and each volume has a separate attractive cover 
design. 

Each i vol., i6mo, cloth $o. 5 c 

By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON 

The Little Colonel. (Trade Mark.) 

The scene of this story is laid in Kentucky. Its heroine 
is a small girl, who is known as the Little Colonel, on 
account of her fancied resemblance to an old-school South- 
ern gentleman, whose fine estate and old family are famous 
in the region. 

The Giant Scissors. 

This is the story of Joyce and of her adventures in 
France. Joyce is a great friend of the Little Colonel, and 
in later volumes shares with her the delightful experiences 
of the “ House Party ” and the “ Holidays.” 

Two Little Knights of Kentucky. 

Who Were the Little Colonel’s Neighbors. 

In this volume the Little Colonel returns to us like an 
old friend, but with added grace and charm. She is not, 
however, the central figure of the story, that place being 
taken by the “ two little knights.” 

Mildred’s Inheritance. 

A delightful little story of a lonely English girl who 
comes to America and is befriended by a sympathetic 
American family who are attracted by her beautiful speak- 
ing voice. By means of this one gift she is enabled to 
help a school-girl who has temporarily lost the use of her 
eyes, and thus finally her life becomes a busy, happy one. 

A. — 3 


1. C. PAGE AND COMPANY'S 


By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON ( Continued ) 

Cicely and Other Stories for Girls. 

The readers of Mrs. Johnston’s charming juveniles will 
be glad to learn of the issue of this volume for young 
people. 

Aunt ’Liza’s Hero and Other Stories. 

A collection of six bright little stories, which will appeal 
to all boys and most girls. 

Big Brother. 

A story of two boys. The devotion and care of Steven, 
himself a small boy, for his baby brother, is the theme of 
the simple tale. 

Ole Mammy’s Torment. 

“ Ole Mammy’s Torment” has been fitly called “ a classic 
of Southern life.” It relates the haps and mishaps of a 
small negro lad, and tells how he was led by love and kind- 
ness to a knowledge of the right. 

The Story of Dago. 

In this story Mrs. Johnston relates the story of Dago, a 
pet monkey, owned jointly by two brothers. Dago tells 
his own story, and the account of his haps and mishaps is 
both interesting and amusing. 

The Quilt That Jack Built. 

A pleasant little story of a boy’s labor of love, and how 
it changed the course of his life many years after it was 
accomplished. 

Flip’s Islands of Providence. 

A story of a boy’s life battle, his early defeat, and his 
final triumph, well worth the reading. 

A — 4 


COSY CORNER SERIES 


By EDITH ROBINSON 

A Little Puritan’s First Christmas. 

A story of Colonial times in Boston, telling how Christ- 
mas was invented by Betty Sewall, a typical child of the 
Puritans, aided by her brother Sam. 

A Little Daughter of Liberty. 

The author’s motive for this story is well indicated by a 
quotation from her introduction, as follows : 

“ One ride is memorable in the early history of the 
American Revolution, the well-known ride of Paul Revere. 
Equally deserving of commendation is another ride, — the 
ride of Anthony Severn, — which was no less historic in its 
action or memorable in its consequences.” 

A Loyal Little Maid. 

A delightful and interesting story of Revolutionary days, 
in which the child heroine, Betsey Schuyler, renders im- 
portant services to George Washington. 

A Little Puritan Rebel. 

This is an historical tale of a real girl, during the time 
when the gallant Sir Harry Vane was governor of Massa- 
chusetts. 

A Little Puritan Pioneer. 

The scene of this story is laid in the Puritan settlement at 
Charlestown. The little girl heroine adds another to the 
list of favorites so well known to the young people. 

A Little Puritan Bound Qirl. 

A story of Boston in Puritan days, which is of great 
interest to youthful readers. 

A Little Puritan Cavalier. 

The story of a “ Little Puritan Cavalier ” who tried with 
all his boyish enthusiasm to emulate the spirit and ideals oi 
the dead Crusaders. 

A— a 


L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY'S 


By OUIDA (. Louise de la Ramie) 

A Dog of Flanders : A Christmas Story. 

Too well and favorably known to require description. 

The Nurnberg Stove. 

This beautiful story has never before been published at 
a popular price. 

By PRANCES MARGARET FOX 

The Little Giant’s Neighbours. 

A charming nature story of a “ little giant ” whose neigh- 
bours were the creatures of the field and garden. 

Farmer Brown and the Birds. 

A little story which teaches children that the birds are 
man’s best friends. 

Betty of Old Mackinaw. 

A charming story of child-life, appealing especially to 
the little readers who like stories of “ real people.” 

Brother Billy. 

The story of Betty’s brother, and some further adven- 
tures of Betty herself. 

Mother Nature’s Little Ones. 

Curious little sketches describing the early lifetime, or 
“ childhood,” of the little creatures out-of-doors. 

How Christmas Came to the Mul= 
vaneys. 

A bright, lifelike little story of a family of poor children, 
with an unlimited capacity for fun and mischief. The 
wonderful never-to-be forgotten Christmas that came to 
them is the climax of a series of exciting incidents. 

A — 6 


COSY CORNER SERIES 


By MISS MULOCK 

The Little Lame Prince. 

A delightful story of a little boy who has many adven. 
tures by means of the magic gifts of his fairy godmother. 

Adventures of a Brownie. 

The story of a household elf who torments the cook and 
gardener, but is a constant joy and delight to the children 
who love and trust him. 

/I is Little Mother. 

Miss Mulock’s short stories for children are a constant 
source of delight to them, and “ His Little Mother,” in this 
new and attractive dress, will be welcomed by hosts of 
youthful readers. 

Little Sunshine’s Holiday. 

An attractive story of a summer outing. “ Little Sun- 
shine ” is another of those beautiful child-characters for 
which Miss Mulock is so justly famous. 

By MARSHALL SAUNDERS 

For His Country. 

A sweet and graceful story of a little boy who loved his 
country ; written with that charm which has endeared Miss 
Saunders to hosts of readers. 

Nita, the Story of an Irish Setter. 

In this touching little book, Miss Saunders shows how 
dear to her heart are all of God’s dumb creatures. 

Alpatok, the Story of an Eskimo Dog. 

Alpatok, an Eskimo dog from the far north, was stolen 
from his master and left to starve in a strange city, but was 
befriended and cared for, until he was able to return to his 
owner. Miss Saunders’s story is based on truth, and the 
pictures in the book of “ Alpatok ” are based on a photo- 
graph of the real Eskimo dog who had such a strange ex^ 
perience. 

A — I 


L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY'S 


By WILL ALLEN DROMGOOLE 

The Farrier’s Do g and His Fellow. 

This story, written by the gifted young Southern woman, 
will appeal to all that is best in the natures of the many 
admirers of her graceful and piquant style. 


The Fortunes of the Fellow. 

Those who read and enjoyed the pathos and charm of 
“The Farrier’s Dog and His Fellow” will welcome the 
further account of the adventures of Baydaw and the Fel- 
low at the home of the kindly smith. 


The Best of Friends. 

This continues the experiences of the Farrier’s dog and 
his Fellow, written in Miss Dromgoole’s well-known charm- 
ing style. 


Down in Dixie. 

A fascinating story for boys and girls, of a family of Ala- 
bama children who move to Florida and grow up in the 
South. 


By MARIAN W. WILDMAN 

Loyalty Island. 

An account of the adventures of four children and theii 
pet dog on an island, and how they cleared their brother 
from the suspicion of dishonesty. 


Theodore and Theodora. 

This is a story of the exploits and mishaps of two mis- 
chievous twins, and continues the adventures of the interest- 
ing group of children in “ Loyalty Island.” 


COSY CORNER SERIES 


By CHARLES G. D. ROBERTS 

The Cruise of the Yacht Dido. 

The story of two boys who turned their yacht into a 
fishing boat to earn money to pay for a college course, and 
of their adventures while exploring in search of hidden 
treasure. 

The Lord of the Air 

The Story of the Eagle 

The King of the Mamozekel 

The Story of the Moose 

The Watchers of the Camp-fire 

THE STORY OF THE PANTHER 

The Haunter of the Pine Gloom 

THE STORY OF THE LYNX 

The Return to the Trails 

THE STORY OF THE BEAR 

The Little People of the Sycamore 

THE STORY OF THE RACCOON 

By OTHER AUTHORS 

The Great Scoop. 

By MOLLY ELLIOT SEAWELL 

A capital tale of newspaper life in a big city, and of a 
bright, enterprising, likable youngster employed thereon. 

John Whopper. 

The late Bishop Clark’s popular story of the boy who 
fell through the earth and came out in China, with a new 

: ntroduction by Bishop Potter. 

<v-9 


L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY’S 


The Dole Twins. 

By KA TE UPSON CLARK 

The adventures of two little people who tried to earn 
money to buy crutches for a lame aunt. An excellent 
description of child-life about 1812, which will greatly 
interest and amuse the children of to-day, whose life is 
widel> different. 

Larry Hudson’s Ambition. 

By JAMES OTIS, author of “Toby Tyler,” etc. 

Larry Hudson is a typical American boy, whose hard 
work and enterprise gain him his ambition, — an education 
and a start in the world. 

The Little Christmas Shoe. 

By JANE P. SCOTT WOODRUFF 
A touching story of Yule-tide. 

Wee Dorothy. 

By LAURA UPDEGRAFF 

A story of two orphan children, the tender devotion of 
the eldest, a boy, for his sister being its theme and setting. 
With a bit of sadness at the beginning, the story is other- 
wise bright and sunny, and altogether wholesome in every 
way. 

The King of the Golden River I A Legend 

of Stiria. By JOHN RUSKIN 

Written fifty years or more ago, and not originally in- 
tended for publication, this little fairy-tale soon became 
known and made a place for itself. 

A Child’s Garden of Verses. 

By R. L. STEVENSON 

Mr. Stevenson’s little volume is too well known to need 
description. It will be heartily welcomed in this new and 
attractive edition. 

A— IO 


BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE 


THE LITTLE COLONEL BOOKS 

(Trade Mark) 

By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON 

Each, i vol. large, i2mo, cloth decorative, per vol. . $1.50 

The Little Colonel Stories. 

(Trade Mark) 

Illustrated. 

Being three “ Little Colonel ” stories in the Cosy Corner 
Series, “ The Little Colonel,” “ Two Little Knights of Ken- 
tucky,” and “ The Giant Scissors,” put into a single volume. 

The Little Colonel’s House Party. 

(Trade Mark) 

Illustrated by Louis Meynell. 

The Little Colonel’s Holidays. 

(Trade Mark) 

Illustrated by L. J. Bridgman. 

The Little Colonel’s Hero. 

(Trade Mark) 

Illustrated by E. B. Barry. 

The Little Colonel at Boarding School. 

(Trade Mark) 

Illustrated by E. B. Barry. 

The Little Colonel in Arizona. 

(Trade Mark) 

Illustrated by E. B. Barry. 

The Little Colonel’s Christmas Vaca- 

(Trade Mark) 

tion. 

Illustrated by E. B. Barry. 

The Little Colonel, Maid of Honour. 

(Trade Mark) 

Illustrated by E. B. Barry. 

Since the time of “ Little Women,” no juvenile heroine 
has been better beloved of her child readers than Mrs. 
Johnston’s “ Little Colonel.” 

A— 11 


L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY’S, 


The Little Colonel. 

(Trade-Mark) 

Two Little Knights of Kentucky. 
The Giant Scissors. 

A Special Holiday Edition of Mrs. Johnston’s most 
famous books. 

Each one volume, cloth decorative, small quarto, $1.25 
New plates, handsomely illustrated, with eight full-page 
drawings in color. 

“ There are no brighter or better stories for boys and girls than 
these .” — Chicago Record-Herald. 

“The books are as satisfactory to the small girls, who find 
them adorable, as for the mothers and librarians, who delight in 
their influence .” — Christian Register. 

These three volumes, boxed as a three-volume set to com- 
plete the library editions of The Little Colonel books, $3.75 

In the Desert of Waiting l The Legend of 
Camelback Mountain. 

The Three Weavers : A Fairy Tale for 
Fathers and Mothers as Well as for Their 
Daughters. 

Keeping Tryst. 

Each one volume, tall i6mo, cloth decorative . $0.50 

Paper boards 35 

There has been a constant demand for publication in 
separate form of these three stories, which were originally 
included in three of the “ Little Colonel ” books, and the 
present editions, which are very charmingly gotten up, will 
be delightful and valued gift-books for both old and young. 

Joel : A Boy of Galilee. By Annie Fellows 

Johnston. Illustrated by L. J. Bridgman. 

New illustrated edition, uniform with the Little Colonel 
Books, 1 vol., large i2mo, cloth decorative . $1.50 

A story of the time of Christ, which is one of the author’s 
best-known books, and which has been translated into many 
languages, the last being Italian. 

A— 1» 


BOO ICS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE 


Asa Holmes; or, at the cross-roads, a 

sketch of Country Life and Country Humor. By Annie 

F ellows Johnston. With a frontispiece by Ernest 

Fosbery. 

Large i6mo, cloth, gilt top $i . 00 

“‘Asa Holmes; or, At the Cross-Roads’ is the most delight- 
ful, most sympathetic and wholesome book that has been pub- 
lished in a long while. The lovable, cheerful, touching incidents, 
the descriptions of persons and things, are wonderfully true to 
nature .” — Boston Times. 


The Rival Campers ; or, The Adventures 
of Henry Burns. By Ruel P. Smith. 

Square i2mo, cloth decorative, illustrated by A. B. 
Shute $1.50 

Here is a book which will grip and enthuse every boy 
reader. It is the story of a party of typical American lads, 
courageous, alert, and athletic, who spend a summer camp, 
ing on an island off the Maine coast. 

“ The best boys’ book since * Tom Sawyer.’ ” — San Francisco 
Examiner. 

“ Henry Burns, the hero, is the ‘ Tom Brown ’ of America.” — 
N. Y. Sun. 


The Rival Campers Afloat; or, the prize 

Yacht Viking. By Ruel P. Smith, author of “ The 

Rival Campers.” 

Square i2mo, cloth decorative, illustrated . . $1.50 

This book is a continuation of the adventures of “ The 
Rival Campers ” on their prize yacht Viking. Every 
reader will be enthusiastic over the adventures of Henry 
Burns and his friends on their sailing trip. They have a 
splendid time, fishing, racing, and sailing, until an acci- 
dental collision results in a series of exciting adventures, 
culminating in a mysterious chase, the loss of their prize 
yacht, and its recapture by means of their old yacht, Sur- 
prise, which they raise from its watery grave. 

A— 13 


Z. C. PAGE AND COMPANY'S 


The Young Section=hand ; or, the ad- 
ventures of Allan West. By Burton E. Steven- 
son, author of “ The Marathon Mystery,” etc. 
i2mo, cloth, illustrated by L. J. Bridgman . . $1.50 

Mr. Stevenson’s hero is a manly lad of sixteen, who is 
given a chance as a section-hand on a big Western rail- 
road, and whose experiences are as real as they are thrill- 
ing. 

“It appeals to every boy of enterprising spirit, and at the 
same time teaches him some valuable lessons in honor, pluck, 
and perseverance.” — Cleveland Plain Dealer . 


The Young Train Despatcher. By bur- 

ton E. Stevenson, author of “ The Young Section- 

hand,” etc. 

Square i2mo, cloth decorative, illustrated . . $1.50 

A new volume in the “ Railroad Series,” in which the 
young section-hand is promoted to a train despatcher. 
Another branch of railroading is presented, in which the 
young hero has many chances to prove his manliness and 
courage in the exciting adventures which befall him in the 
discharge of his duty. 


Jack Lorimer. By Winn Standish. 

Square i2mo, cloth decorative. Illustrated by A. B. 

Shute $1.50 

Jack Lorimer, whose adventures have for some time 
been one of the leading features of the Boston Sunday 
Herald , is the popular favorite of fiction with the boys and 
girls of New England, and, now that Mr. Standish has 
made him the hero of his book, he will soon be a favorite 
throughout the country. 

Jack is a fine example of the all-around American high- 
school boy. He has the sturdy qualities boys admire, and 
his fondness for clean, honest sport of all kinds will strike 
a chord of sympathy among athletic youths. 

A — 14 


BOOK'S FOR YOUNG PEOPLE 


The Roses of Saint Elizabeth. By Jane 

Scott Woodruff, author of “ The Little Christmas 

Shoe.” 

Small quarto, cloth decorative, illustrated and decorated 
in color by Adelaide Everhart . . . . $1.00 

This is a charming little story of a child whose father 
was caretaker of the great castle of the Wartburg, where 
Saint Elizabeth once had her home, with a fairy-tale inter- 
woven, in which the roses and the ivy in the castle yard 
tell to the child and her playmate quaint old legends of the 
saint and the castle. 

Gabriel and the Hour Book. By evaleen 

Stein. 

Small quarto, cloth decorative, illustrated and decorated 
in colors by Adelaide Everhart . . . $1.00 

Gabriel was a loving, patient, little French lad, who as- 
sisted the monks in the long ago days, when all the books 
were written and illuminated by hand, in the monasteries. 
It is a dear little story, and will appeal to every child 
who is fortunate enough to read it. 

The Enchanted Automobile. Translated 

from the French by Mary J. S afford. 

Small quarto, cloth decorative, illustrated and decorated 
in colors by Edna M. Sawyer . . . $1.00 

The enchanted automobile was sent by the fairy god- 
mother of a lazy, discontented little prince and princess to 
take them to fairyland, where they might visit their old 
story-book favorites. 

Here they find that Sleeping Beauty has become a fa- 
mously busy queen ; Princess Charming keeps a jewelry shop, 
where she sells the jewels that drop from her lips; Hop-o’- 
My-Thumb is a farmer, too busy even to see the children, 
and Little Red Riding Hood has trained the wolf into a 
trick animal, who performs in the city squares for his 
mistress. 

They learn the lesson that happy people are the busy 
people, and they return home cured of their discontent and 
laziness. 

A — 15 


L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY 



Beautiful Joe’s Paradise; or, the island 

of Brotherly Love. A sequel to “ Beautiful Joe.” 
By Marshall Saunders, author of “ Beautiful Joe,” 
“For His Country,” etc. With fifteen full-page plates 
and many decorations from drawings by Charles Liv- 
ingston Bull. 

One vol., library i 2 mo, cloth decorative . . $1.50 

“ Will be immensely enjoyed by the boys and girls who read 
it.” — Pittsburg Gazette. 

“ Miss Saunders has put life, humor, action, and tenderness 
into her story. The book deserves to be a favorite.” — Chicago 
Record-Herald. 

“ This book revives the spirit of ‘Beautiful Joe’ capitally. 
It is fairly riotous with fun, and as a whole is about as unusual as 
anything in the animal book line that has seen the light. It is a 
book for juveniles — old and young.” — Philadelphia Item. 

’Tilda Jane. By Marshall Saunders, author of 
“ Beautiful Joe,” etc. 

One vol., i2mo, fully illustrated, cloth, decorative cover, 

$1.50 

“ No more amusing and attractive child’s story has appeared 
for a long time than this quaint and curious recital of the adven- 
tures of that pitiful and charming little runaway. 

“ It is one of those exquisitely simple and truthful books that 
win and charm the reader, and I did not put it down until I 
had finished it — honest 1 And I am sure that every one, younfc 
or old, who reads will be proud and happy to make the acquaint 
ance of the delicious waif. 

“ I cannot think of any better book for children than this. I 
commend it unreservedly.” — Cyrus Townsend Brady. 

The Story of the Graveleys. By mar- 

shall Saunders, author of “ Beautiful Joe’s Paradise,” 
“ ’Tilda Jane,” etc. 

Library i2mo, cloth decorative, illustrated by E. B. 

Barry $1.50 

Here we have the haps and mishaps, the trials and 
triumphs, of a delightful New England family, of whose 
devotion and sturdiness it will do the reader good to hear. 
From the kindly, serene-souled grandmother to the buoyant 
madcap, Berty, these Graveleys are folk of fibre and blood 
— genuine human beings. 

A— 16 


t&«P31 







